


Devil Howling At Your Door

by iwilltry_tocarryon



Category: Revolution (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwilltry_tocarryon/pseuds/iwilltry_tocarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in 2X10, instead of Rachel going with Miles and Bass to Mexico it’s Charlie who goes. Some of the conversations will match up with the scenes, and again, there will be places where I diverge from the script (piece was motivated by Florence + The Machine songs because they fit so perfectly)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was stupid. Miles was barely conscious before Bass went barging in, demanding he tell him where his son was. But the stupid part was Miles offering to take him there, though Charlie could understand that too. The pain of betrayal would sting a lot less if Miles went along and showed him how Connor was fairing. And if grass wasn’t greener on the other side, Miles could always fertilize the ground with more of his bullshit explanations.

Charlie waited a few seconds before entering the room where Rachel and Miles were discussing something in hushed whispers. Her sensitive hearing picked up on Miles asking her mother to tagalong on their ‘Thelma and Louise,’ whatever that meant, road trip. 

That sounded like an even stupider idea, but at least Charlie didn’t have to be the one to point that out, for once her mother said something smart. The last thing any of them needed was to be forced to share quarters without other witnesses present.

"I’ll go," Charlie rounded the corner, "mom you're much more valuable here helping grandpa, this stuff isn’t really my area of expertise. It's not what I'm good at."

Charlie didn't mention that what she was good at was usually the reason people ended up needing medical care. She was good at fighting. 

Good at killing, the taunting voice declared in her head. The voice that sounded an awful lot like another raspy, deep voice she had grown accustomed to hearing. It was always Monroe calling her out, even in her mind, forcing her to face those demons, drop that weighted baggage she was always dragging around.

Rachel sighed, "I just don't think you going is a good idea either."

To be honest Rachel didn’t think anyone else going was a good idea. If Monroe wanted to go so badly, then don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. Or do. She didn’t care either way.

"Perfect," Bass growled as he sauntered back in. They were taking too damn long.

"I don't need a goddamn babysitter anyway. So you two," he pointed to Charlie and Miles, "can stay with Marky Mark, and the rest of the funky bunch while I go get my son. It'll be easier if no one else goes. Less baggage," he sent a pointed look in her direction as if he could read her mind.

Miles snorted lightly, “what is it with you and boy bands? Besides I already told you Bass, we need you here. I’ll take you to get your son, but then we need you.”

That was a loaded statement. They needed him? Typical Matheson hypocritical behavior, use him when shit hit the fan so that he could mop up the mess, and then go right back to blaming him for the bloodshed. 

That was his preferred method, it was the quickest and the easiest, and Miles knew that. If he didn’t want that kind of help, then he should’ve stopped asking, or at least stop fucking siding with Rachel.

The difference between the two of them was that Bass did what needed to be done, regardless of how badly it tainted his character. He could care less about salvaging his tarnished reputation. That ship had left the dock, burned, and sunk to the bottom of the deep, dark abyss of the ocean long ago.

Charlie interjected, "okay I don't know who that is, but whatever. Easier or not, I'm coming with you. Miles is barely functioning as it is,” she didn’t need to glance over to know he was frowning. “And you just died and got dug up out of the ground days ago.”

_There is love in your body but you can't get it out_   
_It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth_   
_Sticks to your tongue and shows on your face_   
_That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste_

Pausing, she bit her tongue, mouthing wanting to form the words “I just watched you die,” but she couldn’t force the words out. The slid their way up her throat until latching on to her tongue, refusing to budge like a stubborn child. The sweet words were too personal to be said aloud. Even on the tip of her tongue they left a haunting aftertaste, a residue, letting her know they were there.

Shaking those thoughts away, she continued, “Someone has to go and make sure you two don’t do anything stupid, or get yourself hurt worse. I'd like Miles to return in one piece."

And you. She didn't say the words out loud, but it wasn’t necessary, Bass could see it on her face. Remnants of it anyway, bright like a crimson flush, receding just as quickly as it rose. 

Spinning on her heels, she gave them no time to object before she was outside, saddling up her horse, Monroe right on her tail.

“I don’t need a babysitter Charlotte, especially not one your age.”

“Well if you didn’t act like a child, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” she quibbled, fueling his anger.

Stepping closer to her, his body brushed up against hers, voice low in her ear, “you and I both know I’m anything but a child.”

His husky tone sent a shot of lust straight to her core between her legs as her body flushed thinking back to before Willoughby. Bass smiled internally seeing her visible resentment towards him, but also desire, evident by her stuttering body language.

“I don’t need you,” he growled in her ear, words having no backbone to hold them up as his chest heaved against her.

“But it’s nice to know at least one Matheson gives a damn.”

Shock threatened to spill onto her face, but Charlie remained impassive, not letting his words settle underneath her skin. She wanted to retort that she didn’t care, not really, but it wouldn’t have been the complete truth and Monroe would’ve known. 

Smug ass bastard was almost always able to catch her in a lie. Probably because he had the same internal war running rampage in his mind when it came to Charlie. He had no idea why he cared; he only knew that he did. Damn him and this constant need to gravitate towards Mathesons’. At least this relationship was a little more mentally and physically stable.

Sighing, he dragged his hand across the scruff on his face. He wasn’t going to talk her out of this; they both knew that, he just wanted to call her out on it. He wanted to shove the real reason she was so adamant about going, practically chomping at the bit, in her face.

Most of all he wanted to showcase this revelation to her. That there was a part of her, maybe buried deep down inside and cringing away from the light of day, that cared about him. It wasn’t enough to lift the anger fogging his mind, but it was enough to clear his sight so that he could see through the haze.

He said nothing, but put some distance between their bodies as Miles and Rachel exited, saying their goodbyes while Bass and Charlie each mounted their horse.

Charlie nodded her head in the direction of her mother, giving off a small smile, not a big fan of tearful goodbyes. Quickly steering her horse in Miles’ direction she softly nudged the horse into a gallop as they sped off.

_I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole_   
_Till there's nothing left inside my soul_   
_As empty as that beating drum_   
_But the sound has just begun_

_There's a drumming noise inside my head_   
_That starts when you're around_   
_I swear that you could hear it_

None of them said anything for a few hours. The clopping of the horses’ hooves against the ground below them created a steady rhythm like a beating drum, until Miles’ voice interrupted, suggesting they set up camp somewhere for the night.

Miles laid out his bedroll after a small fire was made, leaving enough space for Charlie’s. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of surprise when she didn’t lay hers directly near his, as far from Bass as possible. Instead, her pack found its way more in the middle of them, if not favoring Bass’ side. 

It was odd but him, but it wasn’t odd for neither for Bass nor Charlie. They spent many days on the road together, just the two of them, they got used to watching one another’s back. Somehow they always ended up relatively close to one another, both seeking a sort of comfort that only they understood how to give.

Miles opted not to say anything, rolling his eyes as he turned over, giving himself over to sleep shortly after.

Charlie lay against her back on top of the bedroll, glancing up into the sky.

She enjoyed the silence. There was a lot that could be said by saying nothing at all. 

She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep until, all too soon, the silence was interrupted by that familiar drumming noise again, pulsating loudly in her ears.

Her eyes immediately popped open, head twisting over to where the horses were tied up, none of them were moving their hooves against the dirt. 

It couldn’t have been them.

She looked around to see if Miles or Bass was awake and could hear it, but Miles was snoring, and if Bass heard it, he didn’t look alarmed.

How could they not hear it any be worried. It was noisy, consistently thumping only pausing a few seconds in between before picking back up.

It was only when she moved her hand that she realized, somehow in the middle of the night, it had invaded Bass’ personal space, moving closer so there were only centimeters between their hands.

Her hand found its way to her chest, and sure enough, that sound was coming from inside her. She could feel it vibrate, making her hand twitch sporadically. All this time she could’ve sworn it was the horses, wildly galloping with such intensity, such vitality. As though they had no care in the world. No responsibilities, they were free.

But this whole time, the sound was coming from within. 

She had become so used to the lackluster spasm her heart had gradually morphed into, she couldn’t even recognize the lively, energetic sound it once made. But she could recognize the relentless drumming only picked up speed and rose in volume when her body hovered near Bass’.

Glancing down at the rest of her body, she took in the disheveled sight. She was only half laying on her bedroll, one leg extended outwards, almost touching Bass’ knee.

A familiar scent permeated into her nostrils as her head tipped down. Lying across her chest was a leather jacket. 

Letting the material glide underneath her palms, every nerve on her body light up like an explosion, surging electricity through her veins. Her hands remembered this jacket, and the leather texture remembered her, molding under her fingertips. 

Leather was sturdy, durable. It would hold up in a bind. Resistant regardless of the constant ambush of both rain and bullet showers it got pelted by. 

There were wrinkles, evident of wear, adorning the jacket, each one telling a different story about the wearer. Every story told Charlie that even a texture as hard and as tough as this wasn’t invincible. It gave way. It was malleable.

“You making goo-goo eyes at my jacket is really starting to creep me out.”

Jumping, she heard a low voice at her side, finding Bass’ curious gaze directed at her, one eyebrow kinked up. Instinctively, she retracted her leg, drawing it in towards her body as she retreated further to her side, now fully covering the length of her bedroll.

After a few moments she sighed, “I just like the texture. It feels soft, gentle—“

“It wasn’t always like that Charlotte. It started out coarse and rough to the touch. I was barely able to put the damn thing on and move. It was constricting. I couldn’t move around, and was so fucking tight it left hardly any room for oxygen.”

She shrugged, “some things start out like that. Then eventually the world grabs on and works the fabric into something different. Something almost unrecognizable, but not totally.”

Bass glanced over at her, waiting for her to continue her thought.

“It may not feel like the same jacket anymore, but it still provides the same comfort, the same function, the same security. The only difference is that now the touch is bearable, and whereas before it was suffocating, it’s now freeing.”

She runs her hands along the fabric, “it’s decorated. Visibly displaying all the hardships it has been through. The wears and tears are obvious, but none drastic enough to rip away at the seams.”

Turning her head slightly, she caught his eye, “at the end of the day it still holds up.”

Seconds ebbed and flowed between them like the calming ocean waves before a storm. Charlie finally broke the connection and looked away. She wasn’t sure where all of that had come from, blame it on sleep deprivation. But it was true nonetheless.

He was the leather jacket, weathered by the world. Maybe not quite as soft as the texture, but nowhere near as hardened, although the strength and durability had never diminished, even after years passed.

Charlie however, she was the opposite. She was the soft, smooth, gentle texture. The end result, going through a sort of reversal where she could feel the exterior shriveling up and hardening before her eyes.

Hearing her pensive thoughts running through her head, Bass whispered softly, “It’s just a jacket Charlotte.”

The final ricocheting of the drum struck so loudly she could hear the ringing in her ears and throat as she gulped it back down. Slowly, the vibrations wore off as she felt her eyelids drooping, body slowly being swallowed whole by the darkness and comforting silence surrounding.


	2. Two

Morning came entirely too fast, and as Charlie stretched out her limbs, her hand connected with the fabric of her own cotton shirt. Missing the feel of leather, like silk against her rough hands, she turned her head. Her eyes sought out that familiar leather wound precisely around Bass’ muscular frame as he bent over, rolling up his pack.

Apparently it was time to get up. Charlie groaned, working out the kinks in her back as she planted her feet on the ground, heaving herself up.

Bass watched for a fraction of a second, her shirt rising up her body as she extended her arms above her head. Before she noticed, he snapped his eyes back down, gluing them to the ground as he shuffled about.

“How you holding up Stumpy?”

Miles steered the conversation in another direction, “can I ask you something?”

Gathering his belongings, Bass didn’t bother looking up when he answered. “Would it matter if I said no?”

He already knew the answer to that question.

“What are you hoping to get?”

It was the inevitable question he had been waiting for; of course, he expected it to come from the lips of a very different Matheson. Lips he wouldn’t mind staring at, even if they were spewing hatred words at him half the time. 

Bass looked up, “he’s my son, maybe I can do something for him. Help him.”

“You think this is going to be field of dreams?”

“Well I don’t know Miles. Maybe it could’ve been, had your girlfriend not, you know, helped turn the power off and end the world,” Bass sneered, throwing that back in his face. It was easy for Miles to pass judgement about the horrible person Bass had become, but let’s not forget who helped destroy the world in the first place.

Charlie, who caught the tail end of the conversation, said nothing at the mention of her mother. If she opened her mouth she wasn’t sure what words would come out, feeling both an obligation to defend her mother and to give her honest opinion. The better choice was to just not say anything. 

Apparently Miles agreed because he didn’t utter one word after that, mounting his horse and taking off into a slow trot until the others caught up.

They traveled silently on horseback for awhile until Miles said to ditch the horses. They would have to walk the rest of the way.

After that, they went right back to the silence, only broken by Bass groaning, his voice rising, “you have got to be kidding me.”

He swiveled his head around to glare at Miles, “México? You dropped my kid off at México? The one place everyone was fleeing from before the blackout?”

At the mention of their location, Charlie’s eyes zeroed in on what Bass was seeing, a ‘You are now leaving Texas’ sign. She didn’t know what the big deal about it was, couldn’t be any worse than the places she had been through before, sure as hell couldn’t have been worse than New Vegas.

"I mentioned south of the border," Miles gave him a duh expression, not looking particularly sympathetic. 

That only prompted Bass' outburst, "yeah south of the border. I thought you meant South Carolina. Not fucking México. Why would you bring him here?"

He was livid. This was Miles' brilliant plan. Hell, the people who lived in México didn't even really want to stay there. Tacos, tequila, and sombreros were about the only things that came to mind when he pictured México. 

"Well for one he has family there," Miles broke the tense silence after a few minutes. 

“Family that he didn’t even know, nor had he ever met. You dropped my kid off in a strange ass place, with strange people. Nice Miles, that’s great parenting right there—“

He pathetically interjected, "Ok, so maybe it wasn't the best idea—"

"Gee you think," Bass interrupted, "on the growing list of stupid things you've done this is definitely in the top ten. Right after letting that bitch tell you what to do."

"What the hell else was I supposed to do Bass? You were off the rails."

The fixed tone in his voice implied there was no other choice, when the obvious solution would've been for Miles to have stayed and helped make things better. Instead of running away from the destruction he caused and the problems he created. 

He jabbed a finger at Miles’ chest, “yeah and who’s fault was that huh? It’s not like I fucked things up all by myself.”

"None of that matters now," two sets of heads turned to look at Charlie who apathetically shrugged. 

"What I'm just saying. Who cares? That's in the past and now we're here. So stop whining about it. Besides maybe Connor likes Mexico."

That's where Charlie and Miles were so different. Miles always played the blame game. What else was there to do? What else could he have done? What other option did he have? Placing all the culpability onto anyone that wasn't him. Sweeping the past underneath the proverbial rug where the dirt kept piling up until it blocked the whole damn front door. 

Charlie acknowledged the past, greeting it like a former version of herself she was none too proud of, but never turned a blind eye. She held its gaze and took responsibility. 

Bass knew she was just trying to put a stop to their bickering, but her dismissive tone pissed him off even more.

"Don't talk about it like you were there, this has nothing to do with you, so why don't you keep your nose out of it," he pointed a finger at her. 

Miles instantly went to defend her, but Charlie stuck out her chest in defiance, "you're right I wasn't there. But right now, you're not there either. That’s in the past and we're in the present. So instead of yapping and arguing like children, how about we get going."

That was easy for her to say. Easy for her to do, and Bass wished it was that easy for him. Part of his problem was using the past against everyone else, cradling it like a hot coal he intended to launch.

Could a man carry the intensity of a fire in his chest without getting burned?

An ordinary man, no…Sebastian Monroe was anything but ordinary. Besides, he had been holding onto the fire for so long he was immune. His senses were numb.

Grunting, he all but stomped away from them, anger fueling his long strides. He had to put distance between them before he ended up saying more shit that would be used against him later.

Neither Charlie nor Miles had anything else to say as they trailed closely behind Bass until they hit a wall, almost literally. Charlie’s eyes darted between the wall and Miles when he finally sighed, reading her thoughts.

“They wanted to keep the riff raff out,” he offered up an explanation.

“Well obviously they didn’t keep you out” Bass dryly commented as his eyes glanced around, trying to come up with some sort of option. He gave up, turning on Miles instead, “so how do you suppose we get in? I would offer a solution, but somehow I don’t think you’re going to like my idea of killing anyone who gets in my way, so I suggest you figure out a solution before I start weed whacking my way to México.”

Charlie snorted, “Yeah because that plan is foolproof. But be my guest, kill as many of them as you can. Might as well let them kill your ass, it’s not like I stuck my neck out trying to save it,” she bit her cheek. She just wanted to call his bluff, she didn’t mean for the words to tumble out.

As far as Bass knew he died, and then someone dug his ass up. Everything in between, Charlie asking her mom to save him, he was clueless about.

Luckily Miles started walking towards a man in a cowboy hat, yelling about picking tomatoes or something. Bass didn’t have time to comment or ask what the hell she meant; Charlie had already taken off in the direction of where Miles was headed.

Apparently it was some sort of glorious job opportunity. 

Bass looked around, surveying the amount of qualified candidates vying for the job. He rolled his eyes. That was some fucking joke, but even with the slim pickings it was highly unlikely they were going to get chosen. Granted he and Miles had a better chance than Charlie. There was no way for Speedy Gonzalez to know how strong or hardworking she was, all they could see was what was offered.

A plan hatched in Bass’ brain, not a particularly good one, but that wasn’t going to deter him.

Immediately he strolled towards the guy as Charlie’s feet shuffled behind him. Miles didn’t move for a few seconds, appearing doubtful. He was just waiting for Bass to go crazy and starting killing people or something…more Bass like. 

Instead, he got blindsided by a whammy. 

"Excuse me sir, my wife here is pregnant. Her father," Bass motioned to Miles, "and I could really use this job. We’ve all been walking in the sun for ages. The heat isn’t treating her so kindly," the enounced low southern, Texas drawl made him even more attractive.

"Plus," Bass added, "we're damn good workers. And this strappin’ boy in here," Bass tugged gently on Charlie's arm, drawing her body close as his warm hand snaked around to land on her stomach, "will make a mighty fine worker one day."

Miles had to plant his heels into the ground in order to steady himself, watching as Bass tenderly stroked Charlie's stomach. The asshole was really laying it on thick. What was even worse is that Miles could've sworn he saw Charlie's body relax into him, but he chalked it up to a twitch of his eye. 

Just the thought of them together made Miles want to kick Bass' ass. Granted it might’ve been the best option, judging by the guy who looked like a softie at heart. Plus it was a way to make sure they all stayed together. Miles just really hated the idea.

Sure enough, seconds later he was saying something in Spanish, motioning for them to get on the wagon. 

Miles hopped on first, going to lean against the side. Before Charlie could raise her foot, Bass leapt on, extending his hand towards her.

She slid the scowl off her face when she realized the guy was looking at her, expecting her to willingly grasp her husband's hand. So she did, none too willingly and none too gently, internally grimacing as he hoisted her up carefully as though she was glass. 

Of course she was supposed to be pregnant.

Their eyes locked for a moment as Miles impatiently huffed, indicating for Charlie to sit down beside of him. Bass swooped in, plopping down, the side of his eye catching Charlie's ferocious glare as she sat down on the bench.

Two could play at that game. If he wanted to drag out this marriage thing, Charlie could fake it as well as the next person. She had been faking happiness for some time now, this would be no different. 

Except she'd be faking with a man who knew better. A man who knew how miserable Charlie actually was, and how deep down the rabbit hole she had fallen. 

_And the arms of the ocean so sweet and so cold_   
_And all this devotion I never knew at all_   
_In the crushes of heaven for a sinner released_   
_And the arms of the ocean delivered me_

Her body gravitated towards Bass' because she was playing the doting, docile wife role. That's what she told herself, but really, her body just naturally moved without her consent. 

Her first thought was to compare Bass to a magnet, the pull of his magnetic field so strong, so captivating. But they were too alike poles; they would never be able to get close to one another, not even if they were shoved together with the right amount of pressure. They would be able to get as close as humanly possible, but at the last second they would always recoil.

They were anything but opposites. 

No, Bass was a strong current, dragging the sand out from underneath her feet, pulling her out to sea. No matter how hard she dug her heels, looking for some sort of stability, the water kept steadily towing her body further away. Eventually she learned that the constancy didn’t lie in the coast. It wasn’t a permanent fixture she could keep in hindsight. It was a feeling, a feeling she got when she let the water submerge her body, shifting her further out.

Sure the ocean could be unpredictable, at any point in time there could be a giant wave or a hurricane, but that unpredictability was the exciting part. 

On instinct her body shifted on the bench and Bass angled his inward towards her. The subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed by Miles who was watching them critically for the first few minutes of the trip.

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_   
_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_   
_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound_

Bass was still restless, impatiently tapping his foot, but the close proximity of Charlie’s body helped ease some of the anxiety.

“If we’re going to make a move we should do it now,” she asserted.

Miles shook his head, “open field, no cover, no where to run. We gotta wait.”

“Can’t do it. I’m done waiting,” Bass snapped.

“Please, if anyone has any better ideas I’m all ears,” Miles murmured sarcastically underneath his breath.

“Hey,” Bass ignored him, hollering at the guy driving. “Excusez moi.”

That’s how much Bass knew and cared about México. That wasn’t even fucking Spanish.

He was getting no where, and losing his temper fast, Charlie could tell, so she hopped to her feet, ignoring the confused looks from both Miles and Bass.

Slipping a sick, upset, painful expression onto her delicate face, she crouched down in between the two guys.

“I feel sick, I think all this rocking isn’t good for the baby. Do you think we could stop,” she gnawed nervously at her lower lip, “please?”

She did everything but bat her pretty little eyelashes at the guy, playing him like a violin. He looked like he wanted to give in, but hesitation was on the tip of his tongue. 

Charlie feigned like the slight bump in the road jarred her more than it actually did as her hand shot out. Grasping the reigns, she pulled it around the guy’s neck, prying the gun from his clenched fist, as the other guy all but leapt off the wagon in fear.

Miles was instantly on his feet to back her play, but Bass knew she didn’t need any help, and he was right. The guy’s body stilled and Charlie unbound the rope from his neck, tugging gently to slow the horses down as the limp body collapsed to the ground. When it landed with a thud, Charlie’s eyes darted in that direction, but only for a second.

Her arm automatically extended the weapon in Bass’ direction, which he gratefully accepted without hesitation. Miles didn’t notice the way she instinctively turned the control over to Bass, he was too busy focusing on the act Charlie just committed.

He knew it wasn’t the first person she had killed, but she didn’t say anything. Hell, he didn’t think he even saw her react. Maybe her spending this much time with Bass was starting to affect her more than she even knew herself. Maybe he was unlocking something inside of Charlie; something dark that was locked up tight for a reason.

Taking calming breaths, she shrugged her shoulders as she looked at his bewildered face. “What? You asked for my help, what did you think I was going to do?”

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose, “I said tell me a plan, not execute it.”

Dropping the reigns, she moved to sit back down on the bench, “well we didn’t really have time to get together in a huddle and strategize. Sorry if you don’t approve, but that’s the best plan I could come up with.”

And it was, but honestly, it was the only idea she had. She didn’t even stop to think about what she would’ve done had the guy pulled the wagon over. That possibility didn’t occur to her. That’s not really how the world worked in her eyes, not from what she had seen or experienced.

Bass took the fallen reigns, dropping down in the driver’s seat. “Well congratulations,” he turned his head to address the other people. “You’ve made it to México amigos, go live the Mexican dream and all that. Arriba, tequila, whatever,” he threw in as they all scrambled off the wagon in a hurry.

The horses started trotting when Bass flicked the reigns, “well now we got ourselves a wagon.”

Bass patted the seat next to him as Miles rolled his eyes, barking out orders on which direction to go to.

Following them to a tee, Bass couldn’t help the surge of anger he felt, passing through the seediest part of Mexico he had ever seen. There were goddamn hookers in the street in the middle of the day, licking their lips appreciatively at him.

And ordinarily he wouldn’t have cared, he might’ve even enjoyed it, but there was a nagging voice in his head that kept interfering. 

On instinct, Charlie’s body straightened up as she sent a glare in the direction of the woman. Bass only looked back at Miles, seething with rage.

_Regrets collect like old friends_   
_Here to relive your darkest moments_   
_I can see no way, I can see no way_   
_And all of the ghouls come out to play_

They were barely off the wagon, horses tied up to a post before Bass was on Miles’ case, and Charlie couldn’t blame him. Why the hell would Miles think this was a good place to leave a kid? Even he couldn’t have been that stupid. This couldn’t have been the only alternative to letting Bass sink his teeth into him.

“You brought my son here Miles? This is nice, what did you do? Buy him a piñata and a handjob? Or did you splurge and buy him a lap dance too, have em do it at the same time?”

The maliciousness left his voice and was replaced by sarcasm as his teeth clamped down in disgust, looking at the area.

Miles didn’t notice the shift in his voice, too preoccupied with the horrible neighborhood, guilt evident on his face. 

“Didn’t use to be like this,” he mumbled, “it was actually pretty nice.”

It was another one of his reasoning’s, but at least this time it actually sounded like he was upset with himself. No kid should have to live in this place. The regret just kept piling up, collecting, until finally it hit him like a sack of bricks. He couldn’t help but think how disappointed Emma would be. 

Kicking up dirt, Miles’ feet brought him to a familiar house. Although it had been awhile since he was last there. He could still remember it so vividly, everything about that day.

Guilt started rolling around in his stomach when the guy answered saying Connor’s aunt and uncle died eight years ago.

Bass’ voice was already booming at his side, asking him how long it had been since he checked in on the kid. 

Truthfully, Miles had only visited once after he dropped him off. It was hard seeing Connor, remembering better days with Emma. It was even harder for Miles to keep this secret from his best friend, even if Bass was in a very bad place. It still didn’t feel right; he would want to know if he had a kid.

The guilt intensified when the guy slammed the door on them as soon as they mentioned Connor.

While it stung to hear Bass blaming Miles, Charlie couldn’t come to his aid completely, and that broke her heart even more. She was sympathizing more with Bass now than her own uncle, but she couldn’t defend someone when they were wrong. That would make her a hypocrite, and too much like her mother who never seemed to recognize Miles’ involvement, or her own, in everything.

“Where are you going?”

Miles yelled at Bass when he stalked off in the direction of a bar.

Bass stopped mid stride and spun around, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re coming with me. You’re not off the hook just because you brought me here.”

Slowly, he walked over to Miles, coming toe to toe with him, “you’re going to help me find my son or find his grave one. And for your sake, you better hope it isn’t the fucking latter. Because if he’s dead, that blood is on your hands, and you might better start digging your own grave.”


	3. Three

With those last parting words, he continued towards the bar, shoving the door open before he heard it swinging open again, Miles and Charlie in tow.

This town wasn’t the friendliest, and obviously they didn’t take too kindly to American assholes coming in, demanding information. Bass got nothing from the multiple people he asked. They all said the same thing, “I can’t help you.” What the fuck did that even mean? It sounded like some cryptic message you had to decode.

Heaving off the bar, he skulked back over to where Miles and Charlie were sitting as the waitress came and filled their glasses up. Charlie was adamantly trying to coax information from her, but she too only said, “I can’t help you.”

Tipping the glass back, Miles looked at the waitress, “what’s with all the shoulder holsters?”

Charlie hadn’t noticed them previously, but of course Miles would. The waitress said nothing for a few minutes pursuing her lips in a tight line, “Cartel Nunez, very dangerous.”

That’s all she said before running off, tailed tucked between her legs, and she didn’t look like she wanted to say that much.

“This town gets better all the time,” Miles sarcastically replied, finishing off the rest of his bourbon before he turned to Bass.

“Look Bass, maybe we should leave while we still can. I told you I’d bring you here and I did. Now we need to get back and handle this patriot business.”

“Oh so kind of you Miles, you brought to the place you hid my son for what 25 years, and after all of a few hours of looking, you’re ready to go. I guess I should consider myself so lucky you stuck around this long. Humoring me,” he spat.

Bass tipped the glass back, locking eyes with Miles over the rim, “I mean, first you kill the kid’s mother, and then you give up on him.”

Miles vehemently shook his head, “I didn’t kill Emma.”

“I would have,” Charlie thought, lips pressed against the cool glass.

She remembered every second of that day. How Miles said he would kill anyone that took a shot at her after Bass brought her into the line of fire. But mostly she remembered how she felt. That hatred, that rage swirling inside of her, building momentum. She said then she would’ve taken the shot if it meant Monroe would be dead. And the worst part was, in that moment, she meant it.

She didn’t know she said the words out loud until she heard a glass cracking. Her eyes flickered up only to see Bass’ teeth clenched, jaw locking in fury.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes went back to her glass, refusing to look at him again, “she was in the way of my shot meant for you. I wanted to end things, and that was the only way.”

Bass let out a humorless cackle, “wow, you’re really something aren’t you. You were willing to kill an innocent woman just to get to me. You know what that would’ve made you?”

He dropped his voice before sneering, “A cold blooded killer, no better than the man you were trying to shoot at.”

“Yeah well, you know what the would’ve made you?”

Mocking his stance, she lowered her voice, “dead.”

Miles jumped in before a real fight broke out, “okay, alright enough. It’s not like Charlie would’ve done it anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” Charlie pathetically mumbled. She didn’t even know if she would or wouldn’t have. She just knew that the rage was seeping over, and all she could see was red. She wanted Monroe dead so badly, she didn’t care who got in her way. And maybe he was right. Maybe that didn’t make her any better than he was.

Bass snorted in indifference, “yeah I don’t know about all that Miles. Seems to me, she and I are a cut of the same cloth. She probably would’ve done it.”

Miles slammed his hand down on the table, the sound vibrating through their glasses, “I said knock it off Bass, she wouldn’t have done it. I told everyone if anyone took the shot I would shoot them. Period.”

“Yes well that’s the difference Miles, you didn’t hesitant killing some random nobody, but if it had been Charlie in that guy’s place, you would’ve faltered. Just like you always do. It’s the same reason you could never quite pull the trigger on me,” Bass beamed confidently. He knew Miles like the back of his own goddamn hand.

“Charlotte though,” his eyes shifted to her rigid form, “she would’ve done it. She would’ve looked Emma in the eyes, and shot her—“

Miles’ elbow to his back cut him off mid sentence as his face was slammed against the table. Miles didn’t let up; pressing down roughly, “don’t say one more fucking thing. I mean it Bass, you don’t know Charlie.”

“Miles stop,” she shoved at his arm until he looked up at her, creating just enough of a distraction for Bass to ram his elbow into Miles’ face.

Before any more fighting could take place a man walked over to them, “is there a problem here? Because if so, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Bass chuckled, clearly amused, “why? It’s not like we could make the place any worse—“

“Watch it,” the guy stepped forward, “I run this town.”

“Oh wow. You run this whole thing?”

Bass threw his hands up in the air, motioning around him, “this whole shit show of a circus is yours? Wow, you even have dancing monkeys,” he motioned to the goons behind. “You must be so proud.”

The guy humorlessly chuckled, “I don’t know about proud compadre, but powerful,” snapping his fingers, instantly everyone surrounding them quickly drew their guns on him.

And I've been taking chances,  
I've been setting myself up for the fall,  
I've been keeping secrets,  
From my heart and from my soul

Charlie had no idea what the hell possessed her to react, but she pushed her body closer to the guy’s, “look we don’t want any trouble okay?”

Her honey sweet voice flowed over his body, easing the tension as his eyes scanned down her body for the first time.

“Well,” he licked his lips, “I’d hate for there to be blood spilled in front of an innocent, pretty little thing such as yourself.”

For a moment his eyes went back over to where Miles and Bass were standing, arms folded across their chest in a standoffish manner. He couldn’t help but release a chuckle. Turning back to Charlie, he smirked, “come join me for a drink.”

It wasn’t a question, more like a statement he wasn’t looking for an answer to as he strode away. 

Charlie instantly started to walk when Bass latched on to her elbow, “uh I don’t think so.”

She pulled her arm away, surprised when he actually let go, “he’s obviously in control here, which means he might know something about Connor. I’m just going to go right over there and talk, you two can keep an eye on me from over there. And yes Miles, I’ll keep my stupid to a minimum,” she quickly threw in the last part before she too spun on her heels. She gave them no time to object, which was what was coming.

It wasn’t like she wanted to do this by any means, but this could be their only chance at getting information about where Connor was, or what happened. This was a chance she was willing to take. Charlie felt like she at least owed Bass that much, half of this was her mother’s and Miles’ fault. The Matheson family fucked Bass over, the least Charlie could do is go flirt a little bit and try to get some information. 

She was only doing this to try and make up for what Miles did. It had nothing to do with the time he saved her life. It also had nothing to do with the fact that she had just watched him die earlier, and the first thing he wanted to know while he was still coming to was about his son. It was none of those reasons…right?

Plus, this guy didn’t really look like the kind of guy you said no to. 

Miles didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like the creepy way that guy looked at Charlie, like he was eyeing up his prize.

Bass couldn’t say he really liked it either, but she did have a valid point. It was obvious this greasy thug had some sort of influence over the town, which meant if anyone knew anything, it would be him. And although he didn’t want to use Charlie as bait to get information, he trusted her. He knew she was cunning and smart, plus like she said, they would be right there. Watching her. The entire time.

“What’s your name señorita?”

Bringing the glass to her lips, she tipped the liquid back, her eyes never leaving his. “Sarah McGill, and you?” She batted her eyelashes lightly as he drunk in the sight of her.

“You can call me Nunez.”

His heavy Spanish accent would’ve been a turn on, had he not been a creep in every other respect.

“Nunez,” she tested the name on her lips, watching as his eyes followed her every movement. “That sounds like a very strong, firm name,” her tongue darted out to wet her lips unconsciously.

“What are you and your friends doing in town?”

Charlie smiled, “we’re just passing through. We’re on our way—“

Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned forward, “let’s not play games shall we? What is it that you’re looking for here?” He eyed her up and down once more, “a good time?”

She wanted to shudder at what he was implying, but she held her chin high so to speak, “I’m actually looking for another friend, I was told he lived here? Connor Bennet?”

Opening his mouth to speak, he was instantly cut off when a guy appeared, muttering something in Spanish to him. His gaze left Charlie’s for the first time since she sat down in that musty booth, tucked away in the corner of the room, almost all the way out of sight. 

But she could see feel the heat of Bass’ gaze against her back, giving her second degree burns every time she moved her body closer to Nunez, and each time he stroked his fingertips along Charlie’s skin.

Each time he touched her, Bass wanted to go over there and break his fingers, one by one and cram them down his slimy throat. He wanted to run a blade across his neck and watch as every single drop of blood flowed from his pathetic excuse of a body. Anger took over his entire body, seeping over onto the table as the glass shattered in his hand.

As soon as she heard a cracking sound, her eyes snapped over, coming face to face with a set of pissed off crystal blue eyes glaring at her. Pursuing her lips, she did nothing but turn back around. There was nothing she could do. He wanted information, well this was the only way she knew how to get it.

“I’d be more than happy to help you,” the words rolled smoothly off his Spanish tongue. “But I am needed elsewhere, I’m a busy man you know. If you come back later,” his hand ghosted across her forearm, “I will give you all that you desire about your friend Connor. But I’m not particularly good in a crowd, you understand?” His chin shifted only slightly towards Miles and Bass. 

Charlie knew exactly what he was trying to say and she nodded. Purring, she leaned forward, “I would be so grateful.”

With that, he tossed a wink in her direction, heading towards the exit as Charlie stood, going back over to their table.

“From what I gathered—“

She barely got the words out before Bass practically jumped her, “gathered? More like from what you seduce out of him. Jesus Charlie, why didn’t you just give a blowjob, it would’ve been faster and a hell of a lot less nauseating to watch.”

A retort fell dead upon Miles’ lips as Charlie glowered, “oh I’m sorry, I thought it was you who wanted to know about your son. My mistake, next time I’ll let you forcibly pull the information out of someone’s dead corpse.”

“Would’ve been better than selling myself.”

Her chest heaved in fury as Bass gritted his teeth.

“Did he say anything about Connor?”

That’s all he said after a few tense moments.

Charlie curtly nodded, “said he would tell me, but it had to be just me—“

Immediately Miles jumped in, “uh uh. No way. You’re not going anywhere with him alone.”

“This isn’t up to you Miles, I’m not a child, besides Bass will agree that this is the only way we’re going to figure out where Connor is—“

“I don’t give a damn how old you are Charlie, or what Bass says. I’m sorry we couldn’t find him, but we don’t even know if this guy is telling the truth or not. Hell he might not even know,” Miles threw his hands up dramatically.

“Well considering he’s Nunez, as in the Cartel Nunez, I’m guessing he would probably be the one to know. Since he’s running the town and all.”

Miles remained steadfast in his adamant decision not to allow Charlie to go, while she kept arguing back and forth with him.

Bass’ quiet voice rang through, “I think we should let Charlie do it.”

Miles’ eyes bugged out in his head, “excuse me? Are you out of your fucking mind? We’re not dangling Charlie in front of him in order to find your son Bass. That’s fucking insane and Charlie is not worth the risk. And you know it,” he dropped his voice, sending a pointed look in his direction.

“So what, Charlie’s life is worth more than Connor’s because he’s my son?”

“That’s not what I said, don’t twist my words. Look me in the eye and tell me you want to risk her life like this Bass. If you can honestly look at me and say those words, then I’ll let her do it,” he confessed.

Charlie wanted to interrupt and tell them both that it was neither of their choices, it was hers, but she held her tongue as Bass looked to Miles. He opened his mouth several times, but each time, he snapped it shut.

The truth was, he couldn’t say those words, not how Miles phrased it anyway. Did he think Charlie would be able to handle it? Yes, he had no doubt in her ability. Did he want to know about his son? More than anything. It was physically killing him to hold his breathe in anticipation. 

But could he say those words? No. He threw that statement out at Miles because he wanted to hurt him. He wanted to make it seem like Miles didn’t care, that he would choose Charlie over his son every time, just because he was his blood. Honestly though, Bass was choosing Charlie, and he would make the same damn decision every time.

Miles nodded in satisfaction, “good then it’s settled. We’re leaving now,” he abruptly stood up from the table. He needed some time to cool off as he felt his blood boiling, singeing his skin as it erupted from his arteries.

“Bass,” she lowered her voice, hand yearning to comfort his placed rigidly on the table. In the end, she kept her hands in her lap, deciding it was the better choice; she didn’t want to risk spooking him.

“Don’t,” malice laced his voice as his eyes pierced into hers. His mouth opened again but his jaw shot up like a rocket to keep the words from spewing out. Shoving the chair back, he stood up, striding towards the door as Charlie conceded and followed.

Miles was waiting on them outside, leg bent as he rested his foot against the building. When they were in sight, he shoved off the wall, going to where there charity awaited. This time he didn’t let Bass take the reigns once the horses were untied from the post. He hopped up onto the creaky, wooden bench, waiting for the added pressure of extra weight to pile in before he took off.

You want a revelation,  
You wanna get it right  
But it's a conversation,  
I just can't have tonight  
You want a revelation, some kind of resolution  
Tell me what you want me to say.

Charlie said nothing. Bass said nothing. And Miles sure as hell said nothing as the horses’ hooves clattered against the ground, leading them away from the seedy, grimy town. She watched as it disappeared from her sight, dragging with it the sun as darkness slowly crept upon them.

She had no idea how long the horses had been consistently trotting, but the wagon jolted to a halt, jarring her from the comforts of her own mind.

They set up camp quickly and separately, none of them engaging in conversation or argument. At this point Charlie would’ve reveled in argument that would at least be better than the tense silence suffocating them smothering them in a blanket of darkness.

Bass was the first one to break the silence as he pushed around the food in front of him, “I gotta go back.”

Charlie’s eyes snapped up to his as Miles continued to look down before sighing. “And do what Bass? You don’t even know—“

That’s exactly the point Miles,” he exploded, “I don’t know. Maybe if I knew he was dead or something I could get closure or whatever bullshit phrase people use. But I don’t know, so instead I’m creating all these different scenarios, sloshing them around in my brain, and I gotta tell you none of them are particularly good.”

“Look you already pissed the ring leader of that freak show off, the last thing we need to do is further poke the bear.”

“No one said you had to come,” Bass gritted his teeth.

“I told you Bass, we need you—“

“Oh now you need me? It’s fucking hysterical that you can even say that with a straight face. You’re asking me to risk my life against these khaki bastards but you’re worried about me putting my neck on the chopping block in order to find my son?”

Bass couldn’t help the humorless chuckle that left his chapped lips. Miles was a piece of work.

Miles sighed, running a hand through his hair, “look the patriots are bad for everyone. It’s a risk that would benefit more than just one person.”

More than just yourself. Miles didn’t say those words but he didn’t have to. Even Charlie could hear them faintly echoing in her mind.

“Yeah well I don’t have an interest in the greater good, never have. I don’t have a dog in the fight so to speak, so I don’t give a shit what the patriots do,” Bass spat the words before recoiling at his own harshness.

That wasn’t entirely true that he didn’t care, nor was it the full truth when he said he didn’t stake claims in the fight. Because as much as he wanted to hate Miles and resent him for everything he had ever done, he just couldn’t. Not to mention Charlie. Bass’ eyes darted in her general direction for a fraction of a second, but long enough to feel the icy cold chill coming from her body when he said he didn’t care.

She was pissed at first, but she also knew he was lying; she could see it in his body language and hear it in his words.

Closing his mouth together tightly, he conceded, figuring he could always sneak away like a thief in the night. Not because he was afraid of Miles, he dealt with his shit enough growing up; his words and angry face didn’t faze Bass anymore. But more because he didn’t want to have to face Charlie and see the disappointment on that delicate, fiery face of hers. It would’ve either stopped his cold in his tracks or drove him to say or do something stupid.

Miles was a little on edge for awhile, body not fully relaxing into his bed roll, but eventually his mind shut down and he went into a deep sleep.

Charlie on the other hand tossed and turned, clamping her eyes shut in an attempt to sleep, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lie there knowing there was a possible option to help ease someone’s suffering, even if that person was Bass. Even he deserved to know the truth.

Her eyelids fluttered open, glancing at Miles form and then at Bass’, watching as their breaths rose and fell in sync with one another. It was a steady, shallow sort of breathing, which indicated they were both asleep.

As quietly as she could, she slipped her bag onto one shoulder, tiptoeing across the ground soundlessly. A rush of air escaped her lungs when she thought she was far enough away to make the slightest sound.

A hard hand gripped her elbow, spinning her around as another hand covered her mouth, stifling any screams or squeals she emitted. 

Immediately her fight or flight reflexes kick in, and she was anything but a flighter. She tried rearing her head back, eliciting a grunt from the person when she clipped a jaw. When that didn’t work she tried thrusting her body backwards, but after the first time she felt something poking her in the back as a voice rang out in the darkness. “Charlotte, stop,” his breath tickled her ear as he let go of her mouth, assuming she’d know who he was by that point.

Apparently she had been wrong earlier when she assumed they were both sleeping, she should’ve know he was a good faker.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His whispered in a low, deep voice, jabbing her with the intensity of his glare.

“Just stretching my legs Monroe,” she quipped. It was obvious he knew what she was doing; there was no need to even ask that ridiculous question.

He cocked one eyebrow, “oh so it’s back to Monroe now?”

Charlie quietly guffawed, “really? That’s what you’re concerned with at this particular point in time?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed, “look there’s no need to pretend like we’re friends or whatever. It’s obvious from the statement you made earlier that you don’t give a damn about anyone else, that’s cool, I get it—“

“You don’t get a damn thing,” he interjected as he invaded her personal space yet again. “Don’t play coy, it’s beneath you Charlotte. You and I both know I didn’t mean what I said earlier, not the way I said it. So now back to the question, where are you going kid?”

Her body immediately tensed at the way the word kid fell from his lips. “Don’t play coy,” she mocked him, “it’s beneath you.”

“I can’t let you wander back into that shady ass town, let alone by yourself.”

“Why because you don’t think I can handle it? Besides who said anything about you letting me do anything? I don’t need permission. I’m not a child,” she sneered.

“Then stop acting like one,” he quipped instantly before he raked a hand through his matted locks. “I know you can handle it, but you shouldn’t have to. This isn’t your fault—“

“I never said it was,” she defensively crossed her arms over her chest.

“You didn’t have to say it kid, I can see it on your face. You think that you owe it to me for saving your life, or you think it’ll make up for what Miles did in the first place. In the second place it won’t, all the redeeming qualities you possess would never be able to repair the damaged friendship we have, no matter how much you want to for whatever reason. And on the first count, you don’t owe me for saving your life. I needed you to take me to Miles, it was purely selfish reasons,” he supplied the ludicrous statement, not even believing it as it flowed through his own ears.

Just as he knew she would, Charlie incredulously snorted, “right, you needed me, the infuriating person you keep demoting to ‘kid’ in order to take you to Miles. The same man you’ve known your entire life. You’re two halves of the same double-sided coin. I have no doubt in my mind that if you had wanted to find him you would’ve been able to, without my ‘help.’”

He was starting to get irritated, “what are you trying to infer Charlotte?”

She shook her head, “I’m not trying to infer anything Monroe,” she spat his name back at him, adding an extra shot of venom. “I’m just calling your bluff. If you’re gonna lie that’s fine, but don’t lie to me, at least not with that half-assed sort of explanation that didn’t even sound convincing to you.”

“If you’re not trying to even the score, then why are you really doing this? Connor isn’t anything to you,” he was mindlessly grasping at straws, trying to understand her motivation. It was his nature to question people, to be skeptical about why they wanted to help. Even someone like Charlie. 

She nervously gnawed at her lip, concocting an answer in her head that wasn’t the whole truth, but that wouldn’t be a lie either. Finally she sighed, “I just—I know how it feels to wonder if someone is alive or not. To wonder what happened and I would’ve given anything to know the truth or not.”

Rachel, she was talking about her mother. The noose around his neck tightened as his throat closed up. 

“It’s funny,” Charlie mused, “if she were hear, she’d probably kick my ass for even thinking about going through with this reckless idea. She’d say this is your karma for all the bad you’ve done. That you don’t deserve help. She’d say something like, it’s unfair for me to have to help you find your son when you took hers away—”

“Then why are you helping?” He couldn’t control the hostility that seethed from his mouth. Charlie hit the nail on the head describing the bitch, he could hear her nagging, holier than thou voice in his head now. She sounded even more annoying in his mind.

“Because I’m not her.”

Bass’ eyes shifted over to hers. It wasn’t a question per say, but he could hear curiosity in her voice, a vulnerability. That was partially his fault. He remembered the joke he cracked about Charlie being just like her mom, but that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe it was for a few minutes when her frosty words chilled him to the bone as a smile rose across her face, but ultimately she wasn’t her mother. 

“You’re not Rachel,” his jaw locked, not saying anything further for a few minutes. “You’re also not going.” She looked like she wanted to interrupt but he held his hand up, “that’s final Charlie, I mean it.”

Sarcastically, she rolled her eyes, “well when you put it like that. You’re not the boss of me. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

He growled, “I sure as hell do because I’m older.” It was a pathetic excuse, and even Charlie seemed to think so, rolling her eyes as she turned her back on him to walk away. Bass’ blood boiled to the surface as he grabbed her elbow again in his rough palm, this time tighter. “Get your ass back to camp, back to Miles, before I—“

Not expecting it, Charlie spun suddenly, colliding with the front of his body, rage rolling off her own body. Her eyes shone with a bright hellfire, “before you what? Throw me over your shoulders and carry me back? Before you have to physically restraint me from going?”

The images of Charlie draped over his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of her ass had blood rushing to a very different organ. He put a few inches of distance between them, rubbing his palms against his jeans. 

Charlie took him physically backing off as a sign that he was conceding, which fueled her to continue her journey. Before she knew it though everything was flipped upside down, gravity hoisting her into the air, over Monroe’s broad shoulder.

Instantly she began thrashing about in his vice grip, trying to wiggle her way free while being as quiet as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was wake Miles and deal with his crabby ass.

Bass got two steps when he felt a hand glide across his backside, palming a fistful of his ass roughly. It was enough to make his grip falter, allowing Charlie just enough wiggle room to pull herself from the cage of his body. She didn’t anticipate his quick advancement, feet shuffling with an impeccable speed towards her. She did the only thing she could think of, and that was to start swinging.

He dodged every blow she delivered, except for the one in his blind spot. He could’ve sworn he saw her smile like that was intentional, and he wouldn’t put it past her. No one else knew, but Charlie was highly observant. Too observant if you asked him.

“Stop,” he bellowed softly, but still she continued her onslaught.

Delivering blow after blow, she at least managed to tire him out while moving further away from the camp. 

He got tired of playing this cat and mouse game with her. Grabbing her forearm, he painfully twisted it around her back, repeating the fluid motion with the other arm. Unfortunately for him, she had already learned to use her secret weapon against him. Her luxurious body, and use it she did.

Grinding into him, she could feel him coming to life with every stroke of her ass against the seam of his jeans. If he wanted to fight dirty, then she could be just as dirty as the rest of them.

Finally Bass’ control busted as he shoved her hard into a tree, wincing internally when she hissed after initial contact. “I said, stop Charlie,” he growled ferociously. “I have age, experience, and body weight,” he all but fucking purred into her ear, “to use against you. This is pointless. I will win, every fucking time,” he enunciated each word, lacing it with an indisputable finality. “So stop,” he pressed further into her until her body went slack.

Letting go of the bruising constraint he had on her arms, they flopped lifelessly to the side as she massaged the soreness away. His eyes automatically softened, thinking he had actually hurt her more than he intended. But Charlie wasn’t glass. She wasn’t a china doll. She might’ve showed signs of some aches and pains, but her eyes held a level of intensity that couldn’t be diminished or extinguished.

Intensely, he tugged at his hair, “look, I know when something sounds like a bad fucking idea, and this—“

“Doesn’t,” she finished the rest of his sentence, pleased when he noticeably wavered. Confidence egged her on, “this isn’t a bad idea and you know it. It’s nothing I can’t handle, nothing I haven’t done to get the same kind of information about where you were.”

“Yeah well excuse me if your track record isn’t so good,” he sassed back at her.

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “That’s not fair. I was drugged, you can’t hold that against me.”

“You weren’t being careful—“

“Yes, tell me something I don’t know. It was a mistake, one that I won’t make twice. Disregarding that one slip up, you can’t honestly say that you don’t think me going isn’t worth a shot. Forget what Miles said, he just wanted to make you out to be the bad guy.”

“But I am,” he bitterly laughed. “I am the fucking bad guy because you’re right Charlotte. I don’t have a damn good reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to go, other than the fact that I’m a selfish bastard.”

Sighing, she opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he meant by that cryptic message, but the feel of his lips against hers, plunging his tongue inside the cavity of her mouth shut her up.

Allowing the bag to slip from her shoulder, landing soundlessly on the ground, she instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders, stretching up on her toes as she molded her body against his. When he let out a feral growl it encouraged her to rock her hips up against his, this time the moan came from her own throat.

Bass ripped his lips from hers; trailing hot, open mouth kisses down her neck, he nipped at her milky skin. “I don’t want anyone else to touch you, or fuck, even look at you if I’m not there.”

“That’s—“

He slammed his mouth back against hers. Selfish? Unfair? Hypocritical? Yeah, it was all of those things and he didn’t give a damn. That was the truth she so desperately desired, so he gave her a dose of it.

It was Charlie this time who broke the fiery kiss, letting the back of her palm rest against her mouth as she drank in huge gulps of air. Ignoring Bass’ protesting face, she gathered her bag, putting it back on her shoulder. “That was a mistake. I’ll be back before nightfall with information about your son. Just—make Miles sit tight. Tell him it’ll fuck things up even worse if he intervenes. If something goes wrong, you’ll know where to find me.”

Only allowing her to take three or four long strides, he quickly caught up with her, shoving her pack back down on the ground as he shoved her back up against the nearest tree. 

His lips hovered just above her ear, “did that feel like a mistake to you?” He pressed his straining erection into her lower stomach, “does this feel like a mistake?”

Sucking her lip between her teeth, Charlie had to inhale steady breaths in order to remain in control. “Yes,” she looked at him dead in the eyes. “I might not want you dead anymore, but we are far from friends or anything of that sort. I still hate you, and you still think I’m a kid.”

Bass’ chuckled, a devilish smile gracing his face as he flashed his dimples. His hand snaked up underneath her shirt to cup one breast, kneading it in between his palm. “Do you really think I’d call you kid if I wanted to fuck you up against a tree and watch your face twist in a painful pleasure as I pounded into you? Do you really think I’d call you a kid when I can’t stop thinking about relentlessly fucking you into an oblivion, over and over again.” 

Those words effortlessly slid from his mouth like warm honey, penetrating her ears as her back arched further into his hand.

Pinching at her nipple, he smiled as her sweet aroma filled the space in between their bodies. “Seems to me like you’re the one lying this time. You don’t hate me. You want to hate me for what I’ve done, the people I’ve killed, but you can’t. Mostly because everyone around you has done something similar for those they love and for what they thought was right. Even you. You’ve done questionable things and not even batted an eyelash” he dropped his voice as his hand coasted between the denim of her jeans and the front of her underwear. 

She growled, “You don’t know me Monroe.”

Adding more pressure, he cupped her mound, squeezing it firmly. “I do know you Charlie, because I was you. Still am. I do what needs to be done,” his fingers shoved the sodden, flimsy material to the side, ghosting his fingertips along her slit. “And I don’t give a damn if it makes me look bad or not,” he tenderly parted her folds, running his fingers inside her slick heat. “At the end of the day I’m going to be the one who comes out of it alive.”

Yanking at her top, he pulled one of the exposed breasts into his mouth as Charlie’s hands jerked at his hair. He gave a generous amount of attention to one before moving to the other, violently sucking it into his mouth with enough force to leave permanent marks.

His hands stayed locked on to her hips, almost feeling her bones crack under the pressure, but Charlie never once complained. Nothing flew past her parted lips other than soft mews of pleasure.

Enough daunting foreplay had occurred, he needed to ram inside that taunt cunt of hers now before he started to grow a conscious or something.

Wrenching her shirt over her head, he clawed at the fabric covering her breasts, throwing it to the side before his hands trailed down her legs, dragging her jeans along the way.

Taking the hint, she kicked them aside when they pooled around her ankles.

She didn’t even have time to help him undress. Before she knew it her naked back was up against tree bark again, scratching her soft skin until she could feel little beads of blood trickling down. 

He bent his legs, nudging hers further apart before vehemently cramming his swollen cock into the narrow canal of her dripping sex. Her walls stretched out around him though he gave her no time to adjust to his size before pulling almost all the way out then vigorously thrusting back in. Each time he pulled his shaft out he could see her creamy juices glistening before he rammed it back into the safety of the darkness.

Her sweaty palms struggled to latch onto his shoulders each time her back slid against the tree when his cock pummeled into her. When his hands earnestly squeezed the tender flesh of her breasts, still dully aching from before, her nails retracted, sinking into his shoulder blades.

With every brutal onslaught of his rigid dick plowing mercilessly into her, she could feel the coil twisting tighter and tighter, wetness collecting in her lower stomach.

This wasn’t like the sex she had experienced before. This was ruthless, savage, animalistic. 

The ragged breathing ricocheting between their slick bodies was definitely inhuman grunts mixed with the sound of skin faintly slapping against skin. As they both desperately gasped for air Bass took her wrists in his hands, elongating them above her head until she was stretched out from head to toe.

Charlie could feel the muscles in her body crying out for mercy the further he shifted her hands up the tree. A tingling sensation could be felt from the tips of her curled toes to her bent knuckles. “Please,” she rasped out, chest heaving against his.

Subconsciously her lips closed together after that pleading, begging word managed to tumble from her tongue.

It was enough to make Bass cave. Crushing his lips back to hers, he sucked the oxygen from her lungs in long, deep gulps, drowning in her taste.

Her head hit the back of the tree from the blow of the kiss, the pain sending a shot of lust to her core as her walls locked around his cock, coating him in a layer of sticky sweetness as he continued to drive into her.

The feel of her pulsating erratically around his dick sent chills up his spine, feeling as she came apart. Those chills traveled to his hands where her wrists were still enclosed and pried them apart. Letting her hands go suddenly, he braced his on her firm ass, crushing his hands between her delicate skin and the coarse tree.

Her throaty groans in his ear had him jerking uncontrollably, slipping from her slick heat swiftly before depositing his cum down her thigh.

“It was just sex,” she boldly blurted after a few seconds of them simultaneously breathing against one another. Their sweat combining, drying in the warm air, caused them to stick tightly together. 

There were all these thoughts running amuck in her own mind, she could imagine what were rampaging through his. Thoughts that were teetering on the edge of her tongue, the scale tipping more towards staying inside her mouth.

This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have tonight, hell she didn’t want to have it in general. What could really be said anyway? Nothing that would make sense of the situation, nothing that would end in any sort of resolution. Was there even a resolution to be made? Nothing good could possibly come from exploring these options. And sometimes the search for the resolution was more important than actually obtaining an answer or a reason. But they didn’t have the luxury of musing over these thoughts, letting them marinate for too long. It was easy to slip into the past and find yourself trapped there. It was easy, so easy.

Charlie had to propel herself from that place, stepping back into the present. It was a moment of weakness, of vulnerability. It was just a way to let out the rising frustrations and tension they had both been feeling since before the start of the trip. It didn’t mean anything. She chanted those thoughts in her head before she heard a chuckle.

Bass briskly laughed, pulling away from her body. “Keep telling yourself that kid.”

She had no way of knowing if he was talking about it being just sex, or if he could read the thoughts displayed on her face. Either way he was right.

“What do you want from me? What do you want me to say?” She threw her hands up in exaggeration as they slapped lightly against her thighs. “And don’t say nothing because you do that when you’re pissed. You coldly brush things off like they don’t matter, or like you’re pretending they don’t. But eventually it builds up inside of you to a point where you go off like a grenade, and you drag everyone down with you—“

Those words. Those similar words he had heard Miles say crept out of her mouth, twisting the knife in his back. 

He was the one who dragged everyone down? Coldness seeped into his bitter, short chuckle. “I don’t want you to say anything Charlie because, just like the Matheson you are, you’ve already said enough.”

Tugging his pants back up, he quickly buttoned and zipped them while he pulled his shirt back over his head. 

Charlie did the same with her clothing, smoothing a hand down her body and over her hair, trying to ignore how ferocious his words felt as they plucked at her heartstrings.

Grabbing her pack, she placed it back on her shoulders, picking her feet up as she walked before his soft voice called her back once again.

Her body froze, but she pivoted around to see him wearing an almost worried expression.

He sighed, “just don’t do anything stupid, and if you’re not back by midday, I’m going to get you myself. Understand?”

As he spat the words directly at her, she nodded twice, spinning back on her heel, picking up the pace as she trudged back in the direction of town. She had to get out of there before he came to his senses and stopped her for real. 

Or worse, before she did something far worse than just having meaningless sex with him.


	4. Four

“Bass, get up now, Charlie’s gone.”

Bass felt a hard tap against his foot, rousing him from sleep as he peered up at Miles’ frantic form.

“I’ve sure she’s fine, she’s Charlie. She probably just went off hunting or something,” he grumbled as his head flopped back down.

Miles wasn’t having any of that. Persistently, he kicked at his boot again. “Yeah, without her crossbow?”

At that Bass opened one eye, following Miles’ outstretched hand to land on the weapon. Damnit Charlie, she really went back there without taking her crossbow. Although it didn’t make sense to take it, it would’ve been easily spotted. Still, Bass couldn’t help the anger brewing as he heaved himself into a sitting position.

“She’s Charlie, who knows,” he shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. He tried to appear as though he didn’t really know her, but it came across more along the lines of he wasn’t worried.

Miles ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands before he looked over at Bass. He seemed too casual about the whole thing, so either he really didn’t give a shit about Charlie, or, “what the hell? What aren’t you telling me Bass?”

He sighed, “Look, she’ll be back by midday—“

“Back from where…are you fucking kidding me right now? You have got to be kidding me. She went back to that sleazy ass town?”

“Miles, calm—“

He reared his head in Bass’ direction, “and you let her go? Just like that? Bass what the hell is wrong with you? I get that you’re suicidal sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you have to encourage Charlie.”

Bass clenched his hands into fists at his side; he had to keep calm before he flew off the handles at Miles. “When have you ever been able to stop Charlie from doing what she wanted to do?”

He faltered, “hell, you could’ve woken me up so I could’ve dragged her ass back here and watched her like a hawk. Anything would’ve been better than throwing her to the wolves and offering her up as an appetizer.”

“Don’t you think I tried it all?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Bass was now fully standing as he whipped his head in Miles’ direction.

“I don’t think you tried as hard as you could have, but I don’t give a shit about you right now. I’m going to find Charlie. You can come or not. Frankly I don’t give a shit,” he started to walk away but Bass’ voice drew him back in.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I sent Charlie off to the firing squad with a goddamn smile on my face.”

The level of irritation was steadily rising as Bass caught up with Miles, tugging at his elbow. Smoke was practically rolling out of his ears in waves. Livid was an understatement. He knew Miles was upset and worried, but that wasn’t excuse to blame Bass and place all the culpability onto him. Charlie was just as guilty. For all that occurred last night.

“I think that you,” he pointed a threatening finger at Bass, “were all for her going. You practically jumped at the chance to send her off yesterday. So forgive me if I don’t think you give two shits about—“

That’s all he got out before Bass’ fist connected with his face, sending him flying backwards. Before he could retaliate, Bass advanced towards him again, sending another fist to his chest.

Miles never got the chance to strike him. Eventually Bass straightened up and backed away, putting distance between them before it escalated. 

He said nothing as he turned his back on Miles, striding towards the direction of town, but he could hear as Miles trudged behind him. 

_Holy water cannot help you now_  
 _Thousand armies couldn't keep me out_  
 _I don't want your money_  
 _I don't want your crown_  
 _See I've come to burn your kingdom down_

“Look let’s just go back to the bar from yesterday, maybe someone will know something.”

Those were the first words spoken from Bass’ lips upon arriving back in town, and Miles only gruffly nodded in agreement. Neither one of them could be trusted to say anything else at the moment. Miles was too stubborn to apologize for the comments he made, though Bass deserved one. And Bass was too angry to say anything other than ‘fuck you.’

He chose to use his anger to motivate him in finding Charlie instead of kicking Miles’ ass. He could do that later when they got out of this bumfuck town. Now he could see why everyone wanted to leave México.

Bass immediately honed in on the waitress he remembered from the other day, and just like then she was none too willing to help. He tried sweet-talking her with his dazzling, charming smile, dimples embedding themselves into his cheeks. But nothing, and after awhile he was starting to get frustrated because he could tell she knew something.

“Look,” he exploded, lowering his voice. “Our friend is missing and we need to find her, so if you know something spill. I’m not in the mood to drag it out of you.”

“¿Tienes una problema?” 

Bass didn’t even bother looking in the guy’s direction as he waved him off. “No adiós.”

That was the only thing Bass knew how to say. Or rather the only thing he knew how to say and knew what it meant. 

The guy quickly picked up on his American accent.

“Really, because it looks like you’re harassing Mina here.”

Finally Bass turned in his seat, “I’m not harassing, I’m asking for information. Now run along Pablo.”

“I would watch how you talk to me if I were you—“

A chuckle ripped through Bass’ body, “kid you don’t want to get on my bad side. I’d trust me if I were you,” he mocked. “I just want information to find my friend and then I’ll leave this sleazy, trash infested dump and permanently scrub the memory from my mind.”

“Don’t,” he snapped, “talk about my town like that. I run things here.”

At that Bass couldn’t help but crack a grin as more men surrounded them, forming a little huddle. “That’s funny, I heard those same words yesterday and I still feel just as sorry for the poor schmuck who claims ownership of this place, as I do for you who actually aspires to be in charge.”

The guy cracked a dark grin of his own. “Well if you’ve met Nunez and he’s the one who has your friend, I’d feel sorry for them. Not me, compadre.”

“Compadre?” Bass snorted, “What the hell are you, you don’t look remotely Mexican. In fact,” Bass addressed the crowd, “isn’t he just the whitest looking Mexican you’ve ever seen?”

Miles appeared at Bass’ side, tugging at his shirt, “Bass that’s him, that’s Connor.”

The guy’s eyes zoomed out as Miles stepped into the picture. “I know you, you’re Miles.”

Connor looked over to Bass, “who the hell are you?”

“I’m your dad,” that’s about all Bass could squeeze out, trying not to reflect on the nostalgic tone that crept into the kid’s voice when he mentioned Miles.

Connor’s face remained blank, “my mom said you were dead.”

“Yeah well clearly that’s a lie,” Bass bit his tongue, checking his anger before it got the best of him.

Miles sighed, “he’s telling the truth kid.”

Instantly, Bass glared in Miles’ direction. He didn’t need Miles to voucher for him, especially not with his own kid. But it wasn’t until those comforting words from Miles were spoken that Connor’s face changed, letting the information sink in.

“And where is my mom?”

Bass didn’t say anything, keeping his lips drawn together in a tight line as his head subtly shifted towards Miles. He was going to make him answer the question.

“She’s dead,” Miles managed to shove the words out, sympathy lacing his voice as Connor’s eyes widened, then instantly narrowed.

Bass took a small step forward. “Look, I just wanna talk. But first we need—“

Connor nodded, “yeah, have a little heart to heart. Maybe I’ll make you an ashtray for father’s day.”

Bass was taken back by his surly attitude, but he shouldn’t have expected anything less coming from his son. But the sad thing was, he did. Bass wasn’t always this way, it was life that molded him and made him this hard. Plus the kid had Emma’s genes too, and she was one of the nicest and sweetest girls Bass had ever known. That should’ve at least counted for something.

Connor snarled, curling his lip as he turned back to Bass. “You’re gonna crawl back under whatever rock you came from. Or else I’ll bury you.”

Too late, he’s already been buried.

Bass couldn’t help but find the humor in this. “You’re gonna bury me? What, with these West Side Story pals of yours? Please, you’re nothing but a two-bit thug. You’re pathetic, and going down a dead end street.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he continued. “I don’t have time to school you right now. I need you to tell me where your little friend Nunez is.”

“Pass,” Connor grinned. “Besides, this whole town is his domain. Even if I could get you in, there’s no guarantee you’d make it back out alive. So you might as well chalk it up as a loss. I’m sure you’re used to those.”

“I get that you hate me or whatever,” Bass rolled his eyes. “But Charlie is innocent and doesn’t deserve this. So you’re going to help us find her.”

Connor’s brown eyes morphed into an ebony black. “What’s so special about her huh? It took you 25 years to make your appearance here to find your own goddamn son, but you’re willing to rip this town apart for some chick? She must’ve been a really good lay in order to hold your attention and have you chasing after her.”

Bass bared his teeth, as an animalistic growl rumbled his chest. “Listen I don’t give a shit who you are. Son or not, you don’t have the right to talk to me like that. So watch your mouth before I cram it down your throat.”

Miles stepped in before any blood could be shed, and to save Bass from saying things he didn’t actually mean. Even if Connor was pissing him off about Charlie. “Look kid, Charlie is my niece and Nunez probably has her. So I don’t care if he lives in a fortress surrounded by 10,000 men and a moat with a flesh eating alligator. You’re going to take us there. We’re going to get her back.”

Connor shrugged, “whatever, your funeral. But I’m not risking my life for some piece of ass you’re sniffing after,” he spat the words at Bass.

Bass instantly crossed the threshold, grabbing a fistful of Connor’s shirt until all at once there were multiple guns directed at him. He was forced to let go, forcefully shoving Connor backwards.

“I’ll tell you where it’s located, but how you get in is not my problem.”

Rage bubbled up inside of Bass as Connor briefly gave them directions to some swanky villa that Nunez was holed up in on the outskirts of town. Heavily guarded and surrounded by gates. Perfect. Just what they needed.

That wasn’t the underlying reason for Bass’ irritation. He was upset at the way Connor didn’t seem to care that someone’s life could’ve been on the line. Maybe Bass wasn’t the most loving person, but when it came to family he was loyal. He would rip anyone and anything in order to back someone’s play or help them. But especially Charlie. The girl stuck her neck out for him more than once, even when everyone lashed out at her afterwards. He would fucking tear this godforsaken town apart limb by limb with his bare hands, and dance around the flames as he burned the city to the ground if that’s what it took. There was nothing that could possibly stop him. Not even God himself, of course, who needed God when the Devil was riding shotgun?

“Bass are you listening?”

His eyes shifted towards Miles, “obviously not if you had to ask.”

“Could you at least try to pay attention, you know if that’s not too much trouble. I’d like to get Charlie out of there in one piece. You of all people should be motivated. Since it’s your fault she’s in this mess.”

“It’s not my fault she’s in this mess. It’s her fault. She’s Charlie,” he said for he third time that day like it meant something. And to him it did. “She was hell bent on going from the moment the opportunity arose. God himself wouldn’t have been able to stop her and you know it. You just want someone to blame. Fine,” he sneered, “then blame me. But don’t pretend like I don’t give a damn.”

Bass cut his speech short, grinding his teeth together in order to stop the outpour of words from gushing out of his mouth. He was getting defensive, letting his emotions slip, and that wasn’t the attitude needed to get Charlie back. He had to have a clear head.

Miles looked over at him curiously before going back to the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for talk and questions later. He clued Bass in on the plan he missed while off in la la land, which was basically to storm the castle, rescue the princess, and stay under the radar as much as possible. 

That planned worked for about all of five minutes. At least it lasted until they infiltrated the villa, but it was an up hill sprint in quicksand from there.

Bass skirted along the dim corridor, quietly slipping behind one guy as he ran the blade through his chest, lowering him to the ground soundlessly. He wiped the remnants of blood on the man’s shirt, keeping the weapon tucked closely by his side.

Miles took care of the other two, but more seemed to pop up in their place. There was no slipping under the radar now and they both came to the realization at the same time.

A metaphorical bomb was dropped, surrounding the whole of the room, creating a foggy haze as Bass and Miles tore through there like a rampant hurricane, wiping out everything in their immediate path of destruction.

Miles moved swiftly around the room, trying to tire the guys out, or force them to kill one another, which worked in his favor a few times. It wasn’t that Miles didn’t like killing, he just always looked deep in thought, like he was judging the best possible scenario to avoid causing more destruction.

Bass on the other hand didn’t care about trying to minimize the damage or the bloodshed. He sliced through the flesh of his victims, stepping over their bodies as they landed in heaps on the ground. 

At one point during the whirlwind, Bass’ sword was kicked out of his hand and clattered to the ground below, just out of reach. Instinctively he flung his body towards the guy, gripping the gun as he twisted it around to crack against his skull. The guy’s hold loosened, allowing Bass to steal the gun as he clobbered him until his body sank down.

As soon as he clicked the trigger back it came up empty. What the hell good was a gun without bullets? Thinking quickly, he used the gun to crush the windpipe of another guy, they just kept multiplying like they were coming out of a clown car or something. He was a heavier fellow, but Bass’ hold on the gun was like iron, unyielding. 

Locking his arms underneath the guy’s armpits, he held the gun against the column of his throat until he stopped struggling. Bass chucked the gun, picking his sword back up instead. A trusty, foolproof weapon you could always fall back on.

Advancing towards another one, he twisted his arm back as it emitted a snapping sound and a yelp flew from his lips. Bass dragged the blade clean across the carotid artery, feeling a warm rush of blood floating across his hands.

A sharp pain radiated throughout the back of his skull and lower back as he sank to his knees. Immediately he started throwing elbows, swinging his sword out at the attackers, but it was multiple people against just him. And even Bass wasn’t invincible.

He growled when they clamped down on his forearms, head twisting to the side to see Miles in similar restraint. His eyes locked onto Miles, silently asking their chances of fighting their way through the bodies, but Miles shook his head.

Bass groaned internally, ever cautious Miles, but there was usually good reason for his cautiousness. Bass just hated it. He would much rather go out guns blazin’ and take out every one of these assholes even if it meant dying in the process, but he had to remember the goal. They couldn’t make sure Charlie got out if they kicked the bucket.

That by no means meant that Bass was going to go quietly. He jerked his arm away from the guy, sending a penetrating glare that could kill. “Touch me one more goddamn time and I’ll rip your hands from your arms. Comprende?”

All of the power lied with the guy holding the gun to Bass’ head, but the intimidating tone and the way the words effortlessly tumbled off his tongue yanked that control away. The guy immediately let his hand fall to the side, ramming his gun lightly into Bass’ back as they walked forward.

“Fucking, México,” he grumbled under his breath. “Being shoved around like a goddamn pack mule.”

Bass looked over to Miles as a glared etched across his tired facial features. “Next time, send my kid off to somewhere where they aren’t so pushy and don’t have guns.”

Miles sarcastically rolled his eyes, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be sure to ship em off to Disney Land or a happier place next time.”

Bass opened his mouth to retort but they were being cattle driven into an office, door forcefully banging as it knocked against a wall upon opening. 

His office looked like a sunken Spanish treasure ship bomb went off and splattered onto the walls. Cluttered filled the room in the form of old collectible weapons, globes, a statue of a bull, you name it. The large washed out brick fireplace had horns all around and decorated with cowboy hats, getting uglier and uglier as Bass looked at them. It as obvious he had a fetish for collecting useless junk that only seemed to collect dust.

“Boys, it’s so nice to see you two again. I was just catching up with your lovely friend here.” He swept his hand over to where Charlie was sitting perfectly still in her chair, blade firmly planted across the creamy surface of her throat.

Anger coursed through his veins, extracting blood away from his tightly fisted palms and redirecting it to glaze over his eyes. All he could see was red as his eyes panned down Charlie’s frame. He could feel the tension pulsing through her veins and hear the dull throb of her heart against the bones of her chest. There wasn’t fear in her eyes, but a concerned look stretched across her face when they barged through the doors.

She told Bass to keep Miles at bay, but she should’ve known that was an impossible task. Things had been going great up until Nunez got word that there were intruders inside. It didn’t take a genius to connect them to Charlie. 

Before Bass could even take a step towards her, the guy latched on to his forearms as Bass thrashed about. Each time he moved the blade pressed further into Charlie’s neck, tiny droplets of blood spilling.

It was Miles who spoke, “fuck Bass, stop moving.” Gritting his teeth, he calmly turned to Nunez, “okay you got us, now let her go.”

Nunez predatorily stalked closer to Charlie, eyes roaming down her body before landing back on them. “Now why would I do that? We were just starting to have a little fun here.” He ghosted his fingers down her side, visibly disgusting Charlie to the point where her body twitched involuntarily.

“You son of a bitch,” Bass bellowed, but then quickly dialed it back when the guy holding the blade roughly gripped Charlie’s hair, earning a hiss of pain.

“You don’t make the rules here. I do,” Nunez cheekily smirked as though he was enjoying this show. 

“Yeah well this is some shitty game we’re playing.” 

Nunez creepily stroked his clean-shaven face. “And you would know about conducting games, hmm?”

Bass humorlessly chuckled, “I guess it depends on who you’re asking. If you had asked the men under my command in the Monroe Republic, they’d say yes.”

Nunez’s eyes twinkled when the Republic was mentioned, obviously drunk on the ideas of power. “Ah, so you were apart of the Republic sí?”

A dark mask slipped onto Bass’ face as one corner of his mouth twitched up into a cruel smirk. “I am the Republic.”

At that, Nunez grinned, realizing exactly who he had ensnared in his trap. Sebastian Monroe himself.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Sebastian Monroe,” he smirked. “And I suggest you get your worthless, dirty hands off of her and let her go.” He jerked his head in the direction of Charlie’s rigid form.

Nunez only laughed, “I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands mi amigo. I could kill you where you stand.”

Bass chuckled, “God if I had a dollar for every time someone said that I’d be fucking rich. Even richer if you add in the times someone actually tried. Hell I was just napping in my eternal grave before this little voyage. But, you know what they say…evil never dies. So go ahead, take your best shot, but you better make it count because once you miss, I’m going to slit your throat and bathe in your pathetic, undeserving blood. Let her go, and I’d be willing to negotiate.”

Nunez said nothing for a few moments. Drilling his eyes into Bass’, neither willing to break the connection and admit defeat. Finally Nunez tore his eyes away, looking to the guy standing behind Charlie. He nodded his head, quickly muttering something in Spanish before he released Charlie, shoving her forwards.

She looked around, apprehensive about just being let go, but Nunez was more interested in Sebastian Monroe than some little nobody. She would just be a distraction.

“You’re free to leave, and by that I mean don’t come back. Señorita,” he offered her a sickeningly sweet smile.

“No way, I’m not leaving without them,” she glanced at Bass and Miles.

Before Bass could blow up at her, Miles snapped. “Charlie for once in your goddamn life, do what you’re told and leave. Now, kid. Get the hell out of here.”

She vehemently shook her head, holding her ground. “I’m not—“

“So help me god Charlotte,” Bass dropped his voice, demanding her attention. “I’m not sticking my neck out for you to be ungrateful and stubborn. Get the hell out.” The frost from his words struck her down to her spine, chilling every nerve cell throughout her body.

Time slowly ticked by. Charlie remained frozen in her position, never once wavering. She didn’t want to back down, but something in Bass’ voice, and the way Miles kept sending disapproving looks in her direction made her reconsider.

Her chest heaved rapidly, taking once last farewell glance at Nunez before she slipped out the door. She thought when she got outside her lungs would be able to expand and collect more air, but if anything it was worse. She felt like a rope was being tied around her chest and it was being pulled tighter and tighter. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do at this point.

But one thing was for sure. She sure as hell wasn’t leaving México without them.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll wrap up the rest of the episode within the next chapter, and it will most likely be the last for this story!

Charlie had no idea where she was even going, but her feet didn’t stop until they took her back to the front of the bar she was at the other day. Somehow everyone seemed to end up there, granted it was the only place she really knew.

She looked around for a familiar face, the waitress perhaps, but no one she recognized entered her line of vision. Luckily for her after awhile, she heard a name that sounded like music to her ears, an answer to her prayers…Connor.

Whipping her head around, she saw a mess of dark black, curly hair straight in front of her, accompanied by a few other men. Nothing else was said in English; they picked their native tongue back up, conversing amongst one another until she barged in.

“Which one of you is Connor?”

There was no time for formalities and introductions, she leapt over all of that and cut straight to the chase.

Immediately, the curly haired guy’s head snapped up upon hearing his name coming from an unknown person. His eyes roamed down her body once before landing on her eyes, lazy grin spreading across his face. “Well it depends if you’re the one looking for me.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, “yeah, okay Romeo. Now is not the time to be making googly eyes at me. I need your help—“

He bitterly chuckled, “well that seems to be the phrase of the week. Why is it that everyone thinks they can barge in and start spouting out some shit about me helping?” Recognition flashed across his eyes as he got a better look at her. Mina described the girl that was with Miles and Bass to him the other day, and the description perfectly matched the girl in front of him. “You’re not…Charlie by any chance are you?”

Curiously, she skeptically nodded her head twice. There would be no way of him obtaining her name, unless he’s the reason Bass and Miles were able to find her. That would mean Bass got to meet his son. Maybe at least one thing turned out okay from this shit show of a trip.

“I’m not demanding your help. I’m asking you,” she locked onto his eyes, desperately searching for some sort of connection. He knew this town. If anyone could help, it was him. Plus he should be motivated since Nunez had his father and all. If Bass had even dropped that bomb on him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well at least you have more manners than dear old dad and his sidekick.”

So apparently Bass was able to tell him, and he didn’t give two shits. Great. Things just kept getting better and better. Not only did he seem unwilling to help, he had the same sarcastic, gruff attitude as Bass. And on him it wasn’t remotely attractive.

“Yeah well I apologize that they aren’t the friendliest bunch, and I’d like to say they get nicer, but that would be a lie. If anything they grow on you—“

“I don’t care if they’re nice or not,” his outburst shocked Charlie. “I don’t care about them at all. I told him to crawl back under the rock he came from; it was his choice to go lurking around Nunez’s place, looking for you. It’s their fault they’re in this mess.” He snapped his mouth closed.

She glared, eyes burning down to his very soul. “No one said it was your fault. I’m just asking you to help because Nunez—“

“Is like family to me,” Connor interjected, but Charlie quickly cut him off.

“Yeah, like being the key word. I get that you don’t know Miles, or me, but Bass is your father. And hell, I even understand that you don’t really know him either. But he’s family,” she laced her words with an intense amount of fervor as though it would mean something. Because to her it did mean something, it meant everything.

Nevertheless she continued, “he might not have been apart of your life for 25 years or whatever, but he came all this way—“

“Oh,” he sarcastically rolled his eyes. “Well then that makes all the difference. He’s made one trip out in here in 25 years and I’m just supposed to turn my back on the only people who raised me and took me in?”

“No,” Charlie shook her head. “You’re supposed to do the right thing and forget about who’s side you wind up on.”

Connor apathetically shrugged, “well maybe I think this is the right thing.”

Laughter erupted from Charlie’s mouth, void of all humor. “Wow, you know, you can hate Bass all you want, but you’re a helluva lot like him. Except he understands what the word family means, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do. Let’s get one thing clear though,” she took a step closer to him, “it wasn’t Bass’ fault. Miles was the one who took you away, so if you wanna blame someone, at least focus your whiny attitude on the right person. Better yet, suck it the fuck up, there are worse things that could’ve happened to you.”

She only paused to take a breath in between. “You’re selfish and acting like a child,” she spat the words like venom. “And you don’t deserve him as a father. He’s done a lot of terrible shit, I’m not excusing him, but we all have.”

Taking a few steps back, she held her hands up, “I don’t even need your help. I don’t know why I bothered. I guess because I thought you’d be a decent human being, considering all the things I’ve heard about your mother.”

At the mention of Emma, Connor’s gaze softened for just a fraction of a second before slipping the mask back into place. Charlie just shook her head, walking away before she said more shit and caused even more of a mess. She would figure it out her damn self, that’s the only person she could rely on anyhow.

_And is it worth the wait_   
_All this killing time?_   
_Are you strong enough to stand_   
_Protecting both your heart and mine?_

"You offered yourself up.” Miles pointed out the obvious after a few minutes of silence had floated between them. It was supposed to be a conversation started, but Bass was barely nipping at the bait.

He simply shrugged, "it's nothing you wouldn't have done for her."

He was hoping it would end there, but he should’ve known that even with the impending death looming over their heads, Miles would continuously poke at him. There was no one better at torturing someone than Miles, Bass knew that firsthand.

"Which is exactly my point. I would do anything for Charlie because I love the kid more than life itself. But that doesn't explain to me why you would do it." Miles was speculating and gasping at straws for some sort of insight. 

Bass didn't make it easy. Hell he didn't even help. There were so many things he wanted to say. Charlie was the only one who seemed to give a damn about him finding Connor, even if she did have ulterior motives. Plus Charlie was the same person who put herself on the line in order to save his ass from execution apparently. He still didn’t know all the details, but he didn’t need to. Charlie saved his life, and he was willing to bet it wasn’t because she felt as though she owed him.

Instead he said nothing, which spoke volumes to Miles, but what was he going to verbally say? If he said he didn't care it would be a bold face lie, one Miles would be able to see right through. If he said he did then he'd risk Miles flying off the handles, which was inevitable regardless.

"Ah hell Bass," he dragged out a groan but Bass shot him a glare that shut him up. Now was not the time to hash it out. He'd prefer never, but especially not while they were sitting ducks in Fabio's tacky playhouse.

“Fine,” Miles whispered harshly. “But you do realize that if we make it out of here alive, we’re talking about this. And by talking I mean I’m going to kick your ass and then kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Same ol threats that don’t mean a damn thing to me.”

Miles narrowed his eyes, but Bass wasn’t paying one bit of attention. The doors opened, men trailing in, greeting Nunez before going over to Miles and hoisting him up onto his feet. Fucking Spanish, Bass didn’t understand a damn thing they were saying, but he knew enough to know they were being separated.

Bass immediately started protesting when they forcefully shoved Miles towards the door as he snarled at them.

"Wait what are you doing?"

"Placing you two in separate holding cells. Can't have you two planning an escape now can we?"

Nunez only smirked as Miles was led away first. Bass gritted his teeth together so tightly they were bound to snap at any second. 

"I have something special planned for you, Sebastian Monroe." He sneered the name as a sadistic tone leaked out. Just then the doors opened again with a loud creak, drawing his attention to Connor who strutted through the door. 

Connor never once looked in Bass’ direction as he strolled over to where Nunez was sitting on top of his desk.

"Everything okay?”

"Sí my boy," Bass felt a pang of betrayal in his chest when Connor warmly greeted Nunez. He couldn’t rightly blame Connor though, this man was the only role model he had growing up, and whose fault was that? He wanted to blame Miles, his name on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to even say it in his mind. Part of it was Miles’ fault, but a good chunk of it was his as well. It would be hypocritical for him to think otherwise, and he wasn’t a hypocrite.

They began conversing in Spanish when Bass groaned, not able to contain his frustration. He had heard enough Spanish to last a lifetime. Of course, maybe it was karma for never bothering to pay attention to it in high school.

But if they were going to talk about his torture they could at least do it in English. What fun was dishing out a punishment if you couldn’t gloat and bask in the glory? Nunez seemed to think the same thing.

“Ah, how rude of me.” He turned his back to Connor, facing Bass, “I was just telling Connor here about the plans. Tonight we’re hosting, how do you say, a roasting. And you’re going to be the main dish.”

“Pity you didn’t get to see my whipping post when you first entered.” Nunez mused, “you’ll get to experience it firsthand though. And Connor here,” he turned back around, clapping Connor on the shoulder, “will be doing the honors.”

A low growl rumbled from deep within Bass’ throat, echoing throughout his chest as he glowered. This was one sick son of a bitch.

“This here is Sebastian Monroe himself,” Connor’s eyes practically bugged out of his head when those words slipped from Nunez’s lips. Apparently the kid was either impressed or intimidated. He didn’t say anything because there wasn’t really anything he could say. He couldn’t refuse, father or not, you didn’t say no to Nunez. Not if you wanted to keep all your limbs anyway. If he had said no, then Connor would’ve been right there with Bass, enduring the wrath of the lash.

Bass knew that. He didn’t want Connor to refuse, but at the same time, he thought he would put up more of a fight. Or at least show some hesitation in his eyes. But all he did was nod tersely, go back to speaking in Spanish, and then promptly exit the room.

Bass followed his every move until he was out the door and the same douchebag guy from before was hauling Bass to his feet. His lip curled on instinct when the guy’s hand clamped over his forearm. He didn’t need a wanna be enforcer shoving him around. He was more than capable of complying and walking himself.

The guy flinched back a little bit, but maintained a close proximity as he lightly nudged the tip of his gun in Bass’ direction. 

With one last glance at Nunez he was lead out the door, down some corridors, and all but thrown into a cell. At least the cell was empty and not so fucking cluttered. He felt like he was going to suffocate back in that room. 

But it was also empty in the cell, and he hated solitude. No wonder people went insane when placed in solitary confinement. Death sounded sweeter and sweeter by the minute, thoughts sloshing around in his mind. There wasn’t a real sense of time, but from the best he could calculate it had at least been an hour or two. Damn, this Nunez guy really liked to drag out the anticipation and suspense.

“Don’t think so hard, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Those words. That sweet, honey voice flowed through the air, jabbing at his eardrums as his body jumped. It’s not that he wasn’t used to people sneaking up on him, but he wasn’t expecting to hear that voice. That beautiful, angelic voice.

Quickly he turned his head around to find Charlie jamming something into the lock, trying to diligently pry it open.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?” 

The tone of his voice struck her like a battering ram, almost making her lose her focus, but she expected this. She knew he would be pissed that she didn’t follow his orders or whatever.

Continuing to jab at the lock, she grunted out an answer. “Just caused a little distraction is all. There will be time for questions after I spring you guys from jail.”

“Charlie,” Bass growled as he moved towards the door. Grabbing her arms tightly, he forced her head up to meet his gaze head on. “I thought it was clear when Miles and I both told you to get the hell outta here.”

Ripping her body away, she swatted his hands away from the door, giving him no choice but to comply. “Crystal clear, however, you neglected to specify that here meant México. So technically I did listen. I left, then came back,” she smugly looked up at him, content with her answer. “Besides you should’ve known better. Both of you. I’m not just going to leave you two in fucking México.”

On the last word, the lock sprang free, the door pivoting open. Charlie beamed with pride as she swiftly turned around. “Okay, let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Charlie spun on her heels. “What? What do you mean you’re not going? Is this payback or something for me not listening?”

With each question she advanced further towards him until they were both standing in the center of the cell, almost toe to toe.

Balling his fists at his side, Bass flexed the fingers out, willing the blood flow to return to normal circulation. “Not everything has to do with you Charlie,” he spat, winching as she recoiled. “I can’t leave Connor,” he pathetically mumbled.

Great. Now he just suddenly decided to start caring about people.

“You’ve got some nerve, going around saying shit like that.”

She didn’t realize the words were said aloud until his face was inches away from hers, breath fanning out across her cheeks.

“You know I care.”

She was at a loss about what to tell him. Should she mention how Connor didn’t seem to remotely care about his safety, or the fact that Nunez had him dangling by a string?

“Look Connor is my son, and I’m not going to abandon him a second time. This Nunez guy is pathetic, but he has control over this one horse, sleazy town. If I leave, they’ll place the blame on Connor somehow. Especially when they make the connection between us. I can’t leave him to suffer the fate alone. I won’t,” he adamantly confirmed. There was no way he was backing down from this.

“Fine,” she spat, walking back towards the door.

That seemed all too easy.

With one swift tug, Charlie firmly pulled the door shut.

Bass instantly started to panic, dread rising up his body. It was bad enough Miles got dragged into this, and Connor was involved, but not Charlie too. He was only one person, he couldn’t stand in front of everyone and protect them, not while he was trying to hold it together for himself as well.

“If you’re not leaving then neither am I. And there’s no need to go and get Miles because he won’t leave without you either. So I guess I can make myself comfortable”

Bass cocked up one eyebrow, “so you’re just doing this because of Miles?”

“I’m doing this because neither of you would be willing to leave. So I guess we’re all gonna suffer together.” She purposefully danced around his questioned but with a layer of sarcasm, she was hoping to thwart any further question.

“And if Miles weren’t here?”

She groaned, “Is now really the best time for 20 questions?”

He snorted incredulously, “Unless you have any better suggestions to pass the time, sorry there are no board games in here to amuse ourselves with.”

Rolling his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk as he watched Charlie’s cheeks color a light crimson color before fading. Nothing was said for a few moments, silence surrounding the space, entrapping them between its clutches. 

Finally, her quiet voice cut through the tension. “If Miles weren’t here I would still do the same damn thing.” From underneath her lashes she peered up at him. “I’m not leaving you either. I owe you that much.”

Bass snorted, “You don’t know me anything Charlotte. Apparently you’ve already saved my life.”

There was no direct question, but his eyes twinkled in curiosity.

She raised one shoulder in a half shrug, “I didn’t do anything. I just asked mom not to kill you. That’s all.”

“Well that makes us even, so you’re under no obligation to rot in here with me.”

Firmly planting her feet into the ground, she raised her chin in defiance. If he wanted her to leave, he was going to have to make her, or come along willing. She wasn’t picky.

Flinging his hand out, he pointed towards the door. Patience was started to slip from his sweaty palms, temperature rising the more frustrated he got with her. “Now Charlie, get the hell out of here. Right now.”

“I don’t have to answer to you. I listened once and turned my back, I’m not going to do it twice. You don’t own me, Monroe.”

As soon as his name rolled off her tongue, Bass was pressing her up against the bars of the cell, slanting his mouth over hers.

Charlie responded immediately, arching her body up into his touch as though she craved to feel his hands on every surface of her skin. When his tongue licked at the seam of her lips, she eagerly parted her mouth, granting him access. His distinct flavor was a taste Charlie could never forget or wipe from her palate.

Her body lit up in every place he touched, bomb going off inside of her.

The metal of the bars was digging into her spine, molding itself against the contours of her back, but rapidly the feeling dissipated. 

Bass’ hand wound itself in Charlie’s tresses, gently massaging as he tugged her body closer to his so he could grab the top of her ass in the other hand. After a few seconds his hand skimmed along her back, sneaking up underneath her shirt to lightly stroke at her bare skin. She radiated warmth, like she was the sun, setting his hand on fire. 

His mouth happily swallowed every moan she emitted as she rubbed her body fervently against his, leg creeping up to wrap around the back of his thigh. 

Her hands found a place to land on his shoulders, gripping on for dear life as her tongue poked and probed every nook and cranny of his mouth, reveling in his intoxicating taste until he backed away.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he quickly stepped back, putting as much distance between them as possible in the cell. If he didn’t stop now he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to. And that’s the last thing he needed before being strung up on the whipping post. 

Feelings complicated situations even more, the ties between two people were, for all intents and purposes, similar to the ones that would soon be wrapped around his body. They were constricting, unforgiving, unyielding. They forced you to remain stationary as everything else pummeled you head-on, giving you no way to defend yourself, to protect yourself.

And not just for Bass. The rope tied between the two of them would affect Charlie, tugging her body down along with the dead weight of his.

He was stronger than she was, not only physically, but mentally as well. He had to be. One of them had to stand and endure the pain, and since Bass was already scheduled for a physical beating, he might as well volunteer himself for an emotional one as well. 

This was the best way, the only way, he knew how to protect both himself and Charlie. To cut the rope binding them together, but never burning it, that would be irreversible. Cutting a rope simply meant it could be tied together again, and each time it was severed and retied, it would mean bringing them closer until there was no space in between. All it took was time.

“You can go now,” coldness seeped into his voice as he kept his back turned towards her. Resolve would start slipping if he had to see her face. Hearing the cracking, apprehension in her tone was enough.

“I’m not—“

“Now,” he spun around quickly, voice bellowing throughout the cell as it ricocheted off the walls and slammed against her body.

Her chest heaved up and down rapidly as she narrowed her eyes at him. It was precaution, a security mechanism to put walls up. Charlie understood that. It was smart, disciplined. Something Bass knew how to do very well. It made sense in the context of whatever was going to happen, whatever Bass didn’t clue her in about, and what would happen when they left México. But that didn’t alleviate the sting of the pain any less.

The only sound that followed his loud roar was the sound of the cell door banging against the metal frame as she slammed it behind her body. Bass internally flinched at the hollow sound it made, connecting with the cavity of his chest until it vibrated his ribs.

There was a brief moment his feet wanted to turn around, to say something, anything. They stayed rooted to the cemented ground, heavy burdens anchoring his shoulders, weighing him down. He knew it was the right choice to make. It was a choice he could physically make, and one he didn’t want to force upon Charlie, because that girl was fiercely loyal. A quality he once had, and maybe still possessed. It was the smart choice. But that didn’t alleviate the sting of the pain any less.

_And the only solution was to stand and fight_   
_And my body was bruised and I was set alight_   
_But you came over me like some holy rite_   
_And although I was burning, you're the only light_

Charlie had no idea what was going on, but the square around the villa was packed full of people, glancing upwards at where a wooden pole was positioned. Situating herself in amongst the people, trying to blend in as best as she could, she waited, although fear took over her body. 

She didn’t know exactly what was coming next, but when Bass was dragged out and tied up, she knew it wasn’t anything good. Nothing that she would want to see. Her ears zoned out, not listening to a think Nunez was saying, not that she could understand anyway. Her eyes were focused on Bass, until Connor came into the picture, standing off to the side as he held what looked like a whip from her angle.

Dread filled her body like air in a balloon, expanding the cavity of her chest to almost its breaking point. Realization washed over her, drowning her body in a tsunami wave of reality. They were going to publically punish Bass, and not just they, but Connor specifically. Charlie couldn’t pinpoint which part of that statement was bound to hurt Bass more. 

Of course, physical pain was one thing. Bass could handle that. Emotional pain was a different story. He wasn’t weak by any means, but a person could only take so much before they were bound to snap. Not in the way he had before while he ran the Republic, but in a different way. A way that would leave him bodily and physically bruised, clinging onto any bit of life, but dead in every other aspect.

She wanted to look away, especially when Connor first started and the sting of the pain rippled all the way from Bass’ body, hitting Charlie right in the face. Every time he gritted his teeth she mimicked the action, digging her nails into her palms until she was sure blood was going to come spurting out. But she couldn’t look away, not when Bass’ eyes connected with hers in the crowd. She directed her gaze straight ahead, forcing her body not to flinch as the whip connected with the tender flesh of his skin. 

It was like he could sense her presence, like he could see her although everything around him started to grow hazy, signs of the encroaching blackness about to engulf him. A sea of darkness could surround them and he would be able to spot her, like embedded nighttime vision always able to detect Charlie on his radar. She emitted a distinctive, sharp glow, no matter the conditions. She could be going through an immense amount of pain, sorrow, madness, or pleasure and the glow would always burn just as bright. 

Charlie secreted waves of confidence, security, and comfort towards him. Hoping that if she didn’t recoil it would replicate itself onto Bass’ facial features. She wanted to be strong enough for the both of them even though each time she felt a noose being pulled tighter and tighter around her heart. She never once let the mask slip from its place on her blank face.

Bass’ body felt like it was doused in gasoline and set fire to. The fire radiated throughout every pore in his body, coursing through his veins, down to his very soul. They way she locked eyes with him, refusing to look away each time a lash was delivered, invigorated him. Every time his feet wanted to slip out from underneath his body in exhaustion, he held on tighter.

The fire from the intensity of Charlie’s gaze was excruciating, but in a way that made the sting of the lashes bearable. She set his whole soul on fire in order to save him from the pain.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished, I hope everyone has enjoyed it! I could've continued on, but I only set out to do a sort of re-write to the episode and it's now at the end :) thanks to everyone who read, and reviewed!

Charlie didn’t tear her gaze away until they released his body, faltering for a second before he effortlessly stood on his own two feet. He looked a little worse for the wear, but just like leather, he always maintained his shape despite the wrinkling and tears.

Everyone else scattered away after awhile, but Charlie couldn’t get her feet to move. They were glued into place as emotions poured from her body. Motivation returned as soon as she saw armed men sweeping the perimeter, patrolling the area. She needed to get out of there before she was recognized or worse.

She didn’t realize her body was trembling until her feet started to move and she felt as though she was on a moving platform of some sorts, or an unsteady boat being tossed about by the current. 

She only got a few steps before she felt a hand on her forearm, swiftly tugging her in the direction of an alcove tucked away from sight.

“You have to get them out of here,” Connor’s eyes pleaded with hers.

Now suddenly he cared. She ripped her arm away from his touch, shivering as she felt the rough calluses forming on his palm. Those same hands that just inflicted so much pain upon Bass were gentle and light as they enclosed around her arm.

“You have some nerve demanding things of me now, when if you had helped me before they wouldn’t be in this situation.” With every word intensity grew more and more until Connor had to take a step back.

He ran a hand through his hair, “what else was I supposed to do huh?”

“Anything,” Charlie suddenly exploded. “Anything would’ve been a better choice than that, but it’s done and over with now. The only person who has to live with it is you. It’s not a reflection upon him; it only shows your true nature. Your character,” she snarled, going to turn her back on him.

“You have to get them out of here,” he parroted. “Nunez has something else planned and from what I gather it doesn’t sound good.”

Right, like the other thing was so much better. At this point, not even death could’ve been worse.

Charlie turned on her heel, ready to fly off the handle, but the look in his face stopped her cold in her tracks. It was sympathy, pain, resentment. All of those familiar facial features she had seen a dozen times, not only upon her own face, but others as well.

If she judged him for the bad choices he made, when she had made her fair share of those, then she would be nothing more than a hypocrite. You couldn’t pick and choose the monster you sided with any more than you could choose the monster you became.

She started shaking her head. “There’s no way Bass will go without you. For some reason, he seems to think you’re worth risking all of our necks for. So if you have an escape plan you better start including yourself. Besides, do you really think Nunez is going to be lenient when he finds out your Bass’ son? He’ll put two and two together to figure out you assisted in the jailbreak.”

There was hesitation, apprehension, and nervousness all swirling around his eyes. Charlie could tell he hadn’t thought about it, nor was he too thrilled with the idea of leaving.

Nevertheless he sighed, “alright. I’ll get you in, and help them escape, but I make no promises about coming. He doesn’t have to know that though.”

Charlie nodded, though she wasn’t particularly ecstatic about the idea of tricking him. She hoped that Connor would change his mind when shit hit the fan, which it obviously would. When has a jailbreak or heist ever gone their way?

_And it's an even song_  
_It's a melody_  
_It's a battle cry_  
_It's a symphony_

Bass could feel the high of the burn wearing off, settling into his sink, seeping into his bones as soon as reality struck him. It was easy to pretend he was in a fantasy world where only Charlie existed, focusing on her strong, yet calm face in the crowd. But as soon as his feet touched the ground and he was whisked away it reared its ugly head.

The guy shoving Bass was still fucking terrified of him, even though he struggled to keep upright and walk back to the holding cell. No matter how beaten and bloodied, that only seemed to amplify his commanding presence. The blood adorned his body and only made him seem more vicious, more brutal.

Eventually he collapsed into the bars of the cell, waiting until they were out of sight before fumbling with his shirt, wincing as he felt the strands of flesh ripping with each movement he made.

“Fuck Bass,” he whipped his head around quickly to see Miles on the other side, cautiously looking over his wounds as though the sight of it was just as painful as the whipping itself. And maybe it was.

"Your son did that to you?"

Miles emphasized the word son, giving it more meaning than it actually had. The kid didn't know Bass from Adam. The real surprise should've lied in the fact that someone could commit such a cruel crime towards anyone. Stranger or not, family or not. Of course, that wasn't surprising to Miles. 

"Yeah," he winced, buttoning the shirt around him. "Guess I didn't give him enough hugs."

The only kind of hug he needed was one that ended in suffocation, Miles thought to himself, examining Bass’ wounds.

Verbally he said nothing, drawing his lips together in a tight line as Bass slumped to the ground, careful not to lean his back against anything.

He could feel the steady flow of blood oozing out with each throb of his heart. Taking deep, calming breaths, he willed his heart rate to slow down, causing the trickling of blood to eventually taper off.

“He didn’t have a choice,” Bass murmured after a few minutes. He felt the need to defend Connor, and Miles understood that. He had just been spoiled by Charlie because there was no way in hell that girl would ever do something like that to him. Hell, Charlie wouldn’t do that to anyone. She’d rather take the punishment herself.

Bass seemed to be thinking the same thing. Charlie would’ve taken the punishment and stood in either of their places. Because she didn’t like to see anyone suffer. And Bass could understand that, the real punishment was being made to stand and watch as someone you loved took a beating. There were only so many punishments and executions a person could stand by and watch before they too suffered an execution of their own internally.

“So what now? We just sit and wait?”

“Well excuse me for wanting to sit for a minute after I just had my skin cracked off the bones. But please, don’t let that stop you from coming up with a plan.” Bass all but rolled his eyes.

“Yeah well, all my plans kind involve you willing and able to fight.”

Bass’ lips rose into a light smile, “when have I ever not been willing to fight?” 

Miles snorted, “It’s not the willing part I’m worried about.”

“Well gimme a few minutes and I’ll will my flesh back together,” he deadpanned.

“Dick—“

Miles’ head instantly snapped in the direction of the loud bang he heard, followed by a body thumping against the ground before Charlie rounded the corner.

“What the hell kid?”

When Bass didn’t explode or even look surprised, Miles glanced over to him briefly before looking back to Charlie.

“No time to explain.” This time instead of tediously cramming something into the lock, Bass was surprised that she pulled out a key, clicking it into the lock until she was able to push it open.

“Where did you get a key?”

Hesitantly, her eyes darted to where he was still sitting. “Connor. He’s outside. Now no more question, we really have to go. This has been…I fucking hate México.”

Miles chortled before going to place one arm underneath Bass’ body. 

He immediately flinched and groaned, “I don’t need your help Miles.”

“Yeah yeah,” he let the words go in one ear and out the other before hoisting Bass up onto his feet. He waivered a bit, but was able to regain his balance quick. There was no hesitation in leaving this time. As soon as his son’s name left her mouth Bass got a second wind.

Miles led them, taking the sword from Charlie’s hand as she followed close behind. Bass brought up the rear, though still throbbing with pain; he wasn’t going to let Charlie fall behind. He placed a small, encouraging hand on her lower back, not missing the way she involuntarily shuddered.

“Thank you,” he breathed in her ear. She didn’t respond, but Bass could see the slightest dip in her head.

Jutting his hand out, Miles stopped them in their tracks, halfway down the dark corridor. As soon as the man came into his vision, Miles launched a fist to his face, quickly moving as Bass threw him against the wall without hesitation. 

Charlie followed along behind Miles, but her eyes always fell back to make sure Bass was behind them.

“Stop,” a voice echoed, all of them skidding to a halt as their eyes went over to where Connor was being restraint.

“It’s enough now,” Nunez continued.

Bass looked to Miles, but his gaze was focused on Connor who slightly nodded. Bass conceded slipping the knife underneath the boxes stacked on the table.

“Alright, just let him go,” he made slow, deliberate movements.

“He slipped that bitch a key,” Nunez glared, jerking his head in Charlie’s direction as Bass’ growled. He wanted to tear him apart with his bare hands, but he couldn’t risk Connor’s life just for his own pleasure.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Connor scrambled for the right words.

“Loyalty,” Nunez snapped his head around, “doesn’t have to think.”

“Look, don’t hurt him alright.”

Charlie watched as Bass’ Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably, words slightly hiccupping.

“I have to hurt him, because of you.”

“I thought you said he was like a son to you.” Bass took a small step forward, instantly retreating when the blade pressed tighter against Connor’s neck.

“He is, but I can’t have people thinking that I’m weak. He’s chosen you over me,” Nunez spat the words. Though there was an immense amount of anger in them, there was also a hint of vulnerability.

“You know who obsesses about weakness? Weak people,” Bass couldn’t help the words that slipped out, coated in venom.

“Adiós, Connor.”

Nunez barely got out of the direct line of fire before Connor rammed his head against the guy’s and everyone else sprang into action.

Charlie didn’t hesitate to reach out and grab the closest thing she could use as a weapon, knocking a guy on his head before swiftly removing his sword and plunging it into his chest. She didn’t stop to think about anything. When she hard the sound of guns firing, she maneuvered another person in front of her, using them as a shield to protect herself until the bullets stopped.

Dropping the dead weight on the ground, she looked up to see Bass slicing through the guy’s mid section, gun clattering to the ground.

The sounds around them, bones cracking, swords slicing, painfully grunting, let off a melody of some sort. An explosive symphony of sounds as they worked separately, taking out the men one by one.

Miles bashed one’s head against the table top, sliding his sword into the guy’s spine before moving on to the next victim.

Bass effortlessly danced around them, music filling his ears and fueling his every movement. There was no amount of damage that could affect his performance. All thoughts of pain left his body as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Connor himself wasn’t a bad fighter; even while being detained he managed to shove them off before plunging a knife into one of the guy’s chest.

“He’s pretty good isn’t he?” Bass briefly stopped his movements, jerking his head towards where Connor was.

Miles groaned low under his breath, “Shut up and focus.”

Charlie felt a slight pinch in her side, barely dodging a sword as it grazed against her side. Letting out a wince, Bass immediately looked over to her as the guy backed her into a wall. She was relentless, never once halting in her fluid motions. Bass knew she could take care of herself, but it was that douchebag guy from before. The one who held a knife up to her, threatening her life. 

He couldn’t stop the rage that broke out into its own solo, away from the rest of the song. It took over as he strutted over, not flinching as he drew the sword across the guy’s neck before pulling him off of Charlie. 

He tugged at her elbow, his arm extended out and hovering as he placed his body in front of hers when two more guys appeared.

“Come on,” he motioned with his hands as one went in Charlie’s direction, and the other went towards him. Bass took down the assailant with enough time to watch Charlie cram her sword up into the cavity of the guy’s chest, forcefully twisting it.

Nunez creepily strolled past their line of vision as everyone else lay dead, drowning in a pool of their own blood.

The music faded into background noise, but it never once stopped. 

Acting on instinct, Bass picked up a gun, aiming it directly at Nunez before Connor spoke up.

“What are you doing?”

Even after everything, how Nunez was going to kill him in cold blood, he still couldn’t refrain from opening his mouth in protest. Maybe he really was Bass’ son.

Bass didn’t waiver, “what are we going to do?” His eyes sought out Miles’, “just let him go?”

It wasn’t Miles who spoke up but instead Charlie’s firm voice commanded his attention. “Yeah we’re just gonna let him go. He’s not worth it Bass. He’s a pathetic excuse for a man, whose punishment should be to have to life this pitiful, miserable life. Death would be too easy, too merciful,” she sneered, baring her teeth.

“Come on, let’s go,” Miles tapped his foot impatiently against the floor, creating a thumping rhythmic beat. He didn’t seem pleased with the direction Charlie’s pep talk was going, it sounded foreign coming from her, too angry.

He already had his back turned, Connor hesitantly taking a few steps towards the door as Charlie’s hand lightly cupped Bass’ shoulder.

His eyes momentarily flitted over to hers, putting every emotion into them as she silently communicated with him. That was their thing, non-verbal communication because words weren’t necessary. He could tell by the look in her eyes, and vice versa.

Lowering his weapon, Charlie exhaled as he moved around, clapping Connor on the back before they all left the dingy, shabby villa in their wake.

Quickly they made their exit, going back to where the horses and wagon were tied up. Miles fell into place beside Bass, finding a steady pace in sync with Bass’ long strides. He had bitten his tongue for so long it was starting to become numb and Miles was sure it was going to fall off, but he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything. 

Charlie had distanced herself, bringing up the front, Connor right on her heels. What could Miles say that wouldn’t piss Bass off, making him cling even more to Charlie? Or vice versa, what could he say to Charlie that wouldn’t make Bass look even more desirable to her. Plus he couldn’t really say anything anyway, not without being the biggest douchebag hypocrite to ever exist. Hell, he had literally coveted his brother’s wife. Instead he just outwardly sighed, hoping that conveyed all his feelings about the situation. Bass heard him loud and clear, which meant something to him right then in that moment, but probably not so much in the grand scheme of things.

_I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map_  
_And knew that somehow I could find my way back_  
_Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too _  
_So I stayed in the darkness with you___

__People said I love you in many different ways. And sometimes, words weren’t even necessary to communicate the emotion or sentiment. Sometimes, all that was needed was a fleeting gaze, a lingering touch, an outpour of warmth radiating from one’s own body to that of another._ _

__Charlie didn’t have to say anything to Bass as they left México with one more person than they came with. Occasionally she glanced at his back, watching as the breeze caused it to lightly slap against his skin, blood drying in the air. And although Bass didn’t ever once fully turn around to look at her, he could see her out of his peripheral vision, the ghost of a grin playing upon his lips._ _

__Words would’ve been irrelevant and pointless, not to mention damaging. It was like a mermaid hidden deep below in the shadowy depths of the water. From that point, you could safely observe the sparkling creature as she swam joyously in circles. She was in her element, evident by the glowing smile permanent plastered upon her face. The mermaid left a bright trail of stars everywhere she swam so that the two lovers would never forget the path they traveled, and if need be, they could always find their way back even in darkness. Everything was heightened by the dark. Light, sound, all of those senses needed the serene silence that darkness offered to be understood, felt._ _

__But, as soon as you tried to snatch her up, bringing her closer to the light of the surface, that spark fused out. That luminous halo surrounding her mesmerizing body, that sparkle she emitted dwindled down into a lackluster light. Because the thing that made the mermaid special was the illumination it gave off, but what good was light when there was no darkness?_ _

__So in the darkness it remained, along with all those unspoken words, where it could be free. Where it could remain hidden from the world from now, but always linger in the depths of their hearts._ _


End file.
